


After the Fall

by SeeWell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Castiel in the Bunker, Character Death, Destiel - Freeform, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Human Castiel, Human Castiel in the Bunker, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, No Gadreel (Supernatural), Not Canon Compliant, POV Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester tries to complete the trials, Season 9, Slow Burn, Smut, season 9 fix-it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 03:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14072346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeWell/pseuds/SeeWell
Summary: A newly human Castiel seeks refuge on the streets. Alone and cold, the last person he expects to see is Dean. But Dean always finds him. No matter how bad things get, Dean is the constant in his life. He's not sure why it took him so long to realize it. Sam is hurt, maybe dying, but Team Freewill persists. Castiel will find a way to help without his grace. He won't let Dean down again.





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel folded his arm and turned away from the rain. The awning above provided just enough shelter to keep him dry but it did very little to keep him warm. His temporary home was a doorway at the far end of an alley. He assumed it was the back entrance to a bar or restaurant. He took a deep breath and tried to banish the thought of food from his mind. 

He pulled the hood of his stolen jacket over his head. He never worried about temperature as an angel. He never experienced shivering, wet socks or cold fingers. For all the misery of his current situation, he didn’t dare complain. He was lucky to exist in any state.

He leaned his forehead against the brick wall. He knew better than to wish for more. He deserved so much less. Angels fell from Heaven because of him. His brothers and sisters died because of him and countless others were trapped on Earth.

He sunk to his knees and huddled closer to the wall. It was easier to conserve heat if he brought his limbs closer to his torso. His stomach ached and growled. He needed to eat eventually, rain or no rain. He was human now. If he wanted to survive, he’d have to make an effort. He wasn’t entirely convinced it was worth it. 

He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. His body was sending him a variety of signals and they all seemed to translate into one simple message, pain. 

He heard people shouting at the other end of the alley. Rain and cars and other sounds of Creation covered the voices. Lonely as he was, he hoped people would leave him alone. 

Unfortunately the shouting drew closer. What sounded like multiple people before now sounded like one person crying out against the storm. Castiel lifted his head and listened.

The next shout sounded like someone calling his name. Maybe insanity would be the next step in his descent.

“Cas!” 

He stood and peered around the corner of the doorway. He saw a man standing on the sidewalk, silhouetted against the streetlights. “Dean?” he called.

The man turned. “Cas?” Without waiting for an answer the man ran toward his voice.

Castiel blinked. Dean Winchester was running toward him. He rubbed his eyes.

Dean slid to a halt in front of him. He was soaking wet with a wide-eyed, somewhat delirious expression on his face. Half under the awning he reached for Castiel. Panting, he pulled the hood back from Castiel’s head and examined his face. “Are you ok?” he asked. “Any cuts or bruises?”

“I don’t think so,” answered Castiel. “How did you find me?”

Dean unzipped Castiel’s jacket, eyes still frantically searching his body. “I’m a hunter. It’s what I do.” Apparently satisfied, he gripped Castiel by his shoulders. “You’re really ok? I saw the angels fall. I didn’t know what happened to you.” He frowned, then placed a hand on Castiel’s forehead. “Why are you cold?”

Castiel couldn’t quite bring himself to maintain eye contact. “I’m human,” he said quietly.

“Ok,” said Dean. “That’s ok.” He pulled Castiel into a hug. “Let’s get you home, then we’ll figure this out.” He stepped back and pulled Castiel’s hood back over his head and zipped his jacket. “I parked a few blocks away. You’re not going to melt in the rain, are you?”

“I don’t think so,” he answered. “Do some humans have that problem?”

“Never mind.” He wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and led him out of the alley. He didn’t say anything else as they hurried to the Impala.

Castiel was surprised when Dean ushered him into the front seat of the car. “Where’s Sam?” he asked.

“Back at the bunker,” answered Dean. He started the engine and turned up the heat. “Hold your hands in front of the vents to warm them up.” He was struggling to shed layers of soggy clothing as he spoke. “Take off your jacket. You’ll dry off and warm up faster.” 

Castiel did as he was told.

Dean took the wet jacket from him and threw it into the back seat. “Oh,” he said, “hang on. I’ve got something for you.” He scrambled out of the car and back into the storm. He retrieved something from the trunk and quickly returned to his seat. He handed Castiel a bundle of fabric.

“This is my coat,” said Castiel.

“Yeah. You’re cold, right?” He leaned over and was once again in Castiel’s personal space. He unfolded the trench coat and draped it over him like a blanket.

Castiel opened his mouth, then closed it again. Perhaps he’d been taken by a djinn, or maybe hallucinations were a previously unknown side effect of hunger. 

“You left this at a laundromat,” said Dean. “I washed the rest of your stuff, too. It’s in the trunk.” 

“Thank you,” said Castiel.

“No problem. I was lucky to find it, but it was a hell of a clue. A witness said you came in bloody, stripped, then walked out in someone else’s stuff. The police put out an APB.” 

Castiel squinted at him. He had deep bags under his eyes and his cheeks were a little more angular. “Something’s wrong,” he said. 

Dean flinched and stared at him with an intensity he’d never seen before. “What?” he demanded. “Where?” 

“Not me, you. Something’s wrong with you.”

Dean let out a deep sigh. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“You haven’t been sleeping or eating.” He touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Once he realized his mistake he snatched his hand away and stared down at his lap. 

Dean started the car and sighed again. “Yeah well..." He chewed his bottom lip. "Sammy’s dying,” he said finally.

Castiel sat up in his seat. “What?”

“He thinks I don’t know,” said Dean quietly. “The trials damn near killed him and he’s acting like he’s getting better but he’s not. Our name is shit to the rest of the world. I tried praying and summoning but nothing answered the call.” 

“We’ll figure ou—”

“Don’t,” growled Dean. “Don’t bullshit me right now.” 

Castiel looked down at his hands again. “I can’t save him.” 

“Neither can I.” 

* * *

They stopped for the night at Castiel’s request. Dean started drifting off during the drive. He was barley awake while standing up in the motel lobby. 

Castiel followed him to their room. There was one bed and he didn’t know the protocol for this situation. Maybe one of them would sleep in the car. 

“Shit,” muttered Dean. “I forgot you need sleep, too.”

“I can sleep in the Impala.” 

“No, just pick a side of the bed and promise not to kick me.”

“I promise,” said Castiel.

“Right or left?” he asked, nodding to the bed.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Suit yourself.” He kicked his boots off and collapsed onto the mattress. He didn’t bother getting under the covers.

Castiel stood in the middle of the room. Dean was already snoring. Castiel shifted from foot to foot. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Dean share a bed before, not even with Sam. He crossed the room and stood beside the mattress. Dean was clearly unmoved by the idea of sleeping beside him.

He removed his shoes and folded his coat over the desk. Carefully, he crawled into bed beside Dean. Following Dean’s lead, he stayed above the covers. His body relaxed as soon as he lay down. However his mind was still buzzing as he drifted off to sleep. 

When Dean woke him, he assumed it was morning, but the bedside clock said otherwise.

“Cas,” he said again. 

He forced his eyes open and saw the hunter sitting up and leaning over him.

“Get up for a second.”

“Why?” asked Castiel.

“You’re shivering. You can’t let your body get too cold. You need to warm up.” 

He realized his body was trembling and he was curled on his side. He did as Dean asked and climbed out of bed.

Dean pulled back the covers and patted the mattress. 

Castiel crawled back to his spot and Dean tucked the comforter and sheet around him. His body shook violently against the temperature change. 

Dean settled under the covers on his side of the bed. “Lay on your side and curl up. You’ll get warm faster.”

“T-thank you,” said Castiel.

“No problem. If you can’t get warm, you might want to hop in the shower.”

“I will,” he stammered. 

Dean was again quick to fall asleep, but Castiel struggled to find a position that was both comfortable and warm. After thirty minutes of turning over and curling himself into various poses, he decided to take Dean’s advice about the shower.

He almost made it out of bed, but Dean stopped him. He mumbled something and settled behind Castiel, slotting their bodies together. Dean draped and arm over him and slipped his other arm under Castiel’s head. 

Castiel froze. On the rare occasion he found time to daydream he’d conjured up scenarios very much like the one unfolding now. Perhaps this was his first human dream. Then again, he didn’t think humans had this much control during dreams. He decided to test his limitations by relaxing back against Dean.

Dean responded by snoring loudly in his ear.

That was different. Dean was usually awake in his fantasies. He carefully lifted his hand and let his fingers brush against Dean’s.

“It’s ok, Sunshine,” muttered Dean. He held Cas closer and tangled their legs.

“What about personal space?” asked Castiel. Even if Dean was asleep it felt right to ask about the previously established rules.

Dean hushed him and buried his nose against Castiel’s neck. His lips brushed against his skin and Castiel was suddenly very alert. It wasn’t a dream. He turned his face closer to his pillow and Dean’s arm. He couldn’t control his smile or the bashful feeling in his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel woke up alone. He found a note from Dean on the table. It said he went to get coffee. 

Castiel decided to attempt his first shower and ignore the little voice saying Dean wasn’t really coming back. He turned on the water and figured out how to adjust the temperature. The problem came when he couldn’t change it from the faucet to the showerhead. He didn’t think it would be that complicated and was unprepared to wait. He was already naked and now he was cold again.

“Cas?”

He turned away from the shower. He didn’t hear Dean return. “I’m in the bathroom,” he called. After a second thought, he added “Actually I need some assistance if you don’t mind.” He took a towel from the shelf and wrapped it around his waist as he’d seen Dean do before.

“Need assistance with what?” asked Dean. His voice sounded closer to the door.

“The shower. I can’t make the water come from the showerhead.”

Dean entered with a hand over his eyes and his fingers spread. Once he saw Castiel was clothed, he moved his hand. “It’s this thing,” he said. He tugged on a silver extension on the faucet and water began to rain down.

Castiel blushed.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and watched him from the corner of his eye. “A lot of humans have trouble with hotel showers,” he said. “So you’re in good company. Specifically Sam’s company. He knows his way around computers and ancient texts but he can’t figure out a shower unless it’s the one at home.” 

“Thank you,” said Castiel. 

“No problem.” Dean’s face was bright pink.

Castiel squinted at him. 

“Yeah,” said Dean. “Ok. Good. You shower.” He stumbled from the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Castiel removed his towel and stepped under the water. He instantly understood the appeal. It was warm and enclosed and he felt safe. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the spray before searching for soap.

He cleaned most of his body successfully, but the middle and upper sections of his back were a different issue. His vessel was not as flexible as his grace had made it seem. His muscles were sore and the more he focused on reaching his back, the more his back ached. He realized it had been aching for a while. 

He stuck his head out of the shower. The bathroom door was slightly ajar. “Dean?” he called. “How do humans wash their backs?” 

He heard a cough and a choking sound. “What?” he asked. 

Castiel was about to repeat the question when Dean appeared at the crack in the door.

“You can come in,” said Castiel.

Dean opened the door wider but didn’t enter. “Um,” he began.

“Is there a specific tool I should use for my back?” asked Castiel. “I’ve heard of something called a loo-fah. Is that what you use?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Just, um, you can…” His face was pink again. He turned around. “Do this.” He reached behind his head and wiggled his arm over his back. He turned back around. 

“All right,” said Castiel. He’d tried that already but it hurt more than he thought it should. It didn’t seem to hurt Dean. “Is it always so painful or will I become accustomed to the sensation?” 

Dean frowned. “If it hurts, you’re stretching too much. Let me see something.” He stepped inside the bathroom and held the lower part of the shower curtain. He pushed back the top half. “Hold this,” he said, nodding for Castiel to grip the curtain. 

He was only half exposed now. 

“Turn around.” 

Castiel switched the hand he was using to hold the curtain and turned. 

“Holy shit, Cas,” breathed Dean. “What happened?” 

“Nothing that I can remember.”

“Are you wings gone?”

Castiel flinched. He thought his wounds would be incorporeal. Apparently he was wrong. “Yes,” he muttered. 

“Did you literally fall?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Though I was only human for the last few yards of the drop.” 

“Ok. I need to fix you up. Lose the curtain.” 

Castiel let it drop. He suddenly felt soft fingertips on his back and he jumped. 

“Sorry,” said Dean quickly. “Did that hurt?” 

“No,” answered Castiel. “I wasn’t expecting it.” 

“Sorry,” Dean said again. “Cas, there’s no not-weird way for me to do this so we’re just going to power through and not tell anybody, ok?” 

“Ok.” 

“I’m going to wash you off. You’re going to put pants on. Then I’ll work on your back.” 

“Ok.” 

Dean went to work quickly. He used a washcloth to clean and rinse Castiel’s back and Castiel tried very hard to maintain his composure. Dean was very gentle and his touches were soft and soothing. Castiel was grateful to be facing away from him. 

“Time for pants,” said Dean. “Let me grab a pair. We need to add shopping to the list now that you need more than one set of clothes.” He left and returned quickly with a pair of boxers and a pair of sweat pants. “Get changed and I’ll grab what we need for first aid.” 

Still a little dazed, Castiel slipped into his new clothes. He took a moment to compose himself before finding Dean. 

“Take a seat,” said Dean, patting the edge of the bed. He was sitting farther back with an array of medical supplies scattered around him. “You need to tell if I do something that hurts, all right?” 

“All right,” answered Castiel. He sat on the edge of the bed and felt Dean slide closer to his back. 

“Generally speaking you shouldn’t feel much pain as a human. If something feels bad or you don’t like something, tell me.” Dean’s fingers began searching his back. “That means any time, anywhere. Not just now.” 

“All right,” said Castiel.

“These look like burns,” said Dean. “I’m going to apply some silvadene and some gauze. Don’t try to remove the bandages yourself. Sometimes your skin will stick. Sammy and I have been fried enough to know nothing hurts worse than yanking skin off of a burn.” 

Castiel nodded. Once again he was lost in Dean’s touch. 

“You ok? Does this hurt?” He was still poking around at his back. 

“I’m fine,” he answered. 

“I’m going to smear some ointment on these. Tell me if it hurts.” 

Considering Castiel thought he was going to have to live with this pain, Dean was very concerned about hurting him. Castiel had already accepted the idea it was permanent. The ointment was cool and calming on his skin and Dean’s hands were gentle as ever. For a moment, Castiel forgot himself and leaned back into Dean’s touch.

Dean didn’t pull away. He moved his hands away from the injured skin, up to Castiel’s shoulders. He began to slowly massage his muscles.

Castiel let his head fall forward.

“Sorry it took me so long to find you,” murmured Dean. “I haven’t had my head on straight since Sammy got sick.” 

Castiel turned and caught Dean’s hands in his. “We will fix him. Your brother will be all right, I promise you.”

Dean clenched his jaw and nodded. “Thanks, Cas.” He pulled his hands away. “I need to finish your back.” He wrapped Castiel’s wounds in silence. After he was done he packed the Impala and insisted on helping Castiel settle in his seat. 

Castiel suspected Dean was overcompensating because he couldn’t help Sam. Castiel’s injuries were much easier to treat in comparison. Dean seemed older, worn-down, defeated. They didn’t say much for the rest of the drive. Castiel tried to remember the ways to heal a soul. 

They arrived at the bunker in the evening. Sam and Kevin greeted them. Sam looked like he was dying. He was pale with large bluish, purple bags under his eyes. His hair was disheveled and he’d lost too much weight. He swayed when he stood. Sam’s sickness was killing Dean, too.

Castiel forgot himself again and touched his fingers to Sam’s forehead to scan him. 

“Wow,” said Sam. “Not even a hello? Do I really look that bad?”

“Yes,” answered Castiel.

“Told you,” said Kevin. “You look like a zombie.”

“Is Crowley still in the dungeon?” asked Dean. 

Sam said “Yes” at the same time Castiel asked “What?”

“Good,” said Dean. “That asshat can rot for a while.”

“Mom’s here,” said Kevin. He lowered his voice. “She’s kind of taken over.” 

As if on cue, Mrs. Tran marched into the room. She pointed to Sam. “You, back to bed.” 

“I swear I’m f—”

“No,” said Mrs. Tran. “You’re sick. You need to rest. Kevin, you need rest, too.” She eyed Dean and Castiel and frowned. “Bedtime for everyone,” she announced. 

For whatever reason her assumed authority was enough to make the men disperse and go to their rooms. Dean led Cas to an empty bedroom. 

“You can stay here if you want,” he said. “Or you can—" He pursed his lips. “You know, whatever makes you comfortable.”

Castiel didn’t know what that meant. “I’m comfortable in the bunker,” he said.

“Yeah, ok, good. Uh, good night, Cas.” Dean turned on his heels and left him alone. He half crawled, half fell into bed. He didn’t realize the extent of his exhaustion until his head hit the pillow. He was unconscious in minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

Something terrible happened the next day. Castiel didn’t know how he’d done it or how he hadn’t noticed the pain until after lunch, but it hurt now and he had to fix it. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but there was something dark stuck in the skin on his thumb and he decided that couldn’t be a good thing. 

Unfortunately he couldn’t fix it alone. For some reason the object bothered him more than the pain. He found Dean in his room.

“I need to ask you something unpleasant of you,” said Castiel.

Dean immediately looked up and scanned his body. 

Castiel held out his hand. “I need you to cut my thumb open, peel back the skin and remove a foreign object.” 

“What?” 

Castiel pointed to a centimeter long object embedded in his thumb. It was slightly swollen and red around the edges and it hurt to touch. 

Dean looked between him and his injury. “That’s a splinter, Cas,” he said, unimpressed. “It’s a big one, I’ll give you that. But we’re not going to cut your hand open.” He nodded to his bed. “Sit down. I’ll grab a needle and tweezers.” 

Castiel sat and looked down at his hand. He wondered how many layers of skin the “splinter” was penetrating. 

Dean returned with supplies. “Might be a little infected,” he said. “When did you get it?” 

“I have no memory of this happening,” answered Castiel. “Is that bad?” 

“That’s pretty normal. Splinters don’t always hurt. That sucker looks painful now though. You ok?” 

“It hurts, but not much.” 

“I used to get splinters all the time,” said Dean. He sat on the bed across from Castiel. “I hated them. Everybody does. It’s not that they hurt as much as it is that they’re stuck in your skin. Weirds people out, you know?” 

Castiel nodded. He was feeling very weirded out at the moment.

Dean took his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”

Castiel gulped and suddenly his attention was completely on Dean. He missed the entire procedure. Dean held his hand, thumbed over his skin, brought his hand close to his face to inspect it; the whole ordeal was over very quickly. 

“Good as new,” said Dean. “Let me disinfect it and you’ll be all set.” 

Castiel nodded again, anything to keep his hand in Dean’s for a little longer. 

Unfortunately Dean was a very effective nurse. Castiel’s thumb was clean and bandaged in under a minute.

“Let me take a look at your back while I’ve got all the med stuff out,” said Dean. "Take your shirt off."

Castiel did as he was told. Dean used both hands to slowly peel away the old bandages.

Castiel almost melted against his touch. The way Dean moved was so soft and gentle and so completely foreign to him. This touch was calming and determined. Dean’s rough hands brushed against his skin. He’d seen those hands kill and destroy. The notion that they could also sooth and heal made something flutter in Castiel’s stomach. 

He realized too late that his mind wandered somewhere beyond friendship. He tightened his lips into a line and tried to think of something else.

“Almost done,” said Dean. “Your back already looks better. How are you feeling? Fever? Headache?” 

“I don’t think so,” answered Castiel. 

Dean began reapplying ointment and Castiel sighed. 

“Your back’s pretty tense,” said Dean. “I could, uh—” He cleared his throat. “It’s probably the way you’re sleeping. And the pain is probably making you tense. I’ll get you something for it.” 

“All right,” said Castiel. 

Dean’s fingers pressed into his back Castiel forgot himself. He hummed quietly and closed his eyes. He leaned back slightly, chasing the touch. 

Dean slid his hands across Castiel’s shoulders, kneading the muscles as he went. “Does that—” He cleared his throat. “Is that good? Does it help?” 

“Yes,” answered Castiel. 

“Not weird?” 

“Not at all.” 

Dean cleared his throat again, but was quiet after that. He massaged his shoulders and the muscles around his wounds. Castiel relaxed and let his head fall forward. It was painful, but not bad. Relief immediately followed this pain and the sensation sent shivers down his spine. Maybe the fact that he’d never been touched like this was making his heart beat faster. 

Dean’s hands moved lower on his back and Castiel felt something warm blossom in his chest. Or maybe it was all Dean. Maybe Dean sent shivers down his spine. Maybe his hands were the reason Castiel’s stomach suddenly felt so light. Maybe Dean’s breath on his neck was driving him mad. Maybe Dean’s fingers running along his sides were making Castiel dizzy. Maybe the light scent of leather and soap was clouding his thoughts. 

“Cas?” whispered Dean. 

“Yes?” 

“I—” He exhaled and again his breath ghosted over Castiel’s neck. “I hope this helps,” he said finally. 

It was over entirely too soon. Dean quickly bandaged his wounds and just as quickly began gathering supplies. 

“Thank you,” said Castiel quietly. 

“You’re welcome,” answered Dean. 

Dean made dinner for all of them that night. He and Mrs. Tran kept close watch on Sam, nagging him to eat more, refilling his glass, telling him to rest. Kevin was better off but the stress was beginning to show in his face. He looked tired and worn down. Castiel thought he was considerably healthier than anyone else at the table until Dean took the plate from him, added more food and shoved it in front of him.

Castiel looked between the food and his friend. 

“You’re not eating enough,” said Dean, as though it was obvious.

“I had some chicken,” answered Castiel.

“Yeah, well, have some more. You need to eat the green crap too. I didn’t cook it just for the fuck of it.” 

Castiel wrinkled his nose. “But I don’t want it.” 

“It’s peas and mashed potatoes,” said Dean. “It’s a classic. Eat.”

He huffed and nudged the peas with his fork. They looked molecular and he couldn’t imagine them tasting much better.

“You’ve set a bad example for him,” said Sam.

“Shut up,” muttered Dean. 

“Just saying. If you ate better, he would, too.” 

Dean turned to Castiel. “Be like Sam, not like me." 

“Peas don’t seem to be helping Sam,” said Castiel.

Dean pointed at him. “Don’t sass me. Eat your vegetables.” 

Castiel looked down at his plate. 

Suddenly Dean reached over and took a forkful of potatoes and mixed it with peas. He shoved it into his mouth. “It’s good,” he said. 

Castiel raised an eyebrow, but he followed Dean’s lead anyway. He let the flavors sit on his tongue for a moment. “It is good,” he said.

“All right then,” said Dean. “Eat up. I’ll be in the library.” He and Kevin exchanged a look. Mrs. Tran stared pointedly at her plate. 

“I’m all right,” said Sam. “I swear. I’m healing. I can feel it.” 

“I know you are,” said Dean. “But I’d like to speed up the process. Are you done with dinner? You ready for tea?” 

“Tea?” asked Castiel. 

“Some herbal crap,” answered Dean. “Kevin found a recipe in one of the spell books. The mixture is supposed to have healing properties.” 

“It’s terrible,” said Sam. 

“It might be keeping you alive,” said Kevin. 

“I’ll make the tea,” said Mrs. Tran. She stood and patted Dean’s shoulder. “You go ahead to the library.”

“I’m fine,” said Sam. “Really.” 

Dean sighed. “I know you are,” he said. He stood and followed Mrs. Tran to the kitchen. 

Castiel ate the rest of his meal in silence with the others. Sam left the table first. Mrs. Tran dismissed him after bring him tea. She told him to rest, then scolded Kevin for staying up too late the night before. Kevin left after that, presumably to fulfill his duties as a prophet. 

Castiel helped Mrs. Tran in the kitchen. Dean said he was on kitchen duty, but they both agreed he needed to focus on Sam. 

“I’m worried about those boys,” said Mrs. Tran. “Kevin will be all right. I’ll make sure of that, but Sam is not well.”

“Dean says he’s dying.”

“He might be.” 

Castiel looked down at the dish he was washing. “How do you make tea?” he asked. 

Mrs. Tran stopped drying the dish in her hand. “Why?” she asked. “Are you sick? Stick out your tongue.” 

“For Dean,” he said quickly. “I thought—I don’t know.” 

“That’s a nice idea,” she said. “I’ll show you. That’s very sweet.” 

Castiel felt heat rising in his cheeks. “He seems stressed.”

“Finish that dish, then I’ll show you.” She walked him through the steps then winked at him as he left. 

Hot cup in hand Castiel carefully made his way to the library. He set the drink on the table next to him. 

Dean jumped at the sound. He looked from Cas to the tea. 

“For stress,” said Castiel.

“Thanks, buddy.” 

“You’re welcome.” He took a seat across from Dean. “We will fix him,” he said. 

“I know,” said Dean, returning to his book. “You’d better go to bed soon. You need to be on a regular schedule.” 

“I’m not tired,” said Castiel. He picked up a book. He thought about the nice way Dean touched his shoulders, the way it made him melt back into himself. He bit back a smile when Dean took a sip of tea.

It wasn’t weird when Dean did it, and if Dean thought it was all right then maybe it would be all right if Castiel did it. 

He cleared his throat. “Um, Dean?” 

“What’s up?” He didn’t look away from the book. 

“What you did earlier today—with me.” 

That got Dean’s attention. He looked up quickly.

“The massage,” he continued. “I thought—um—well it relieved my stress. Perhaps I could do the same for you.” 

Dean glanced around the room. “Uh, no,” he said. “That’s—nope. We don’t need to talk about it either.” 

“I enjoyed it,” said Castiel. “You might—” 

“Drop it,” said Dean. 

“Let me help.” 

“No. Stop talking about it.”

“Dean.” 

“Enough,” shouted Dean. “I said drop it.” 

Castiel sat back in his chair. “Fine,” he said. “Forget I said anything.” He stood and walked briskly to his room. 

His sleep wasn’t restful, or if it was, peace didn’t last long. He found himself reliving the fall, the people he’d killed, the streaks of light as his brothers and sisters fell around him. People he loved died and he was powerless to save them. In the dream, Dean lay crumpled on the ground and he couldn’t wake him. Castiel’s body was stuck to the spot. He couldn’t move and he didn’t make any noise when he tried to scream. 

He woke up in a panic, Dean’s name dying on his lips, something strong and warm pinning him to the bed and suddenly Dean was there. He was awake in bed and Dean was looking down at him. 

“It’s ok,” whispered Dean. “It’s just a dream. You’re ok.”

Castiel stared up at him. “Dean,” he breathed, finally finding his voice.

“You know where you are?”

“The bunker.” 

“Good. You remember you’re safe?” 

Castiel nodded. Something about him was different. Dean’s voice was softer. His grip was firm, but gentle. He was still leaning over Castiel. 

“Sorry,” said Dean. He released Castiel. “You were flailing around a lot.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You want to talk about it?” 

Castiel shook his head. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“I was already awake.” He glanced at the door. “I’m sorry for being a dick earlier. I’m just worried about Sammy.”

“You’re stressed,” said Castiel. He raised an eyebrow. “I can help.” 

Dean sighed.

“Let me help you,” said Castiel. “Please. I can’t do much but I can do this.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Why?” 

“I just can’t, Cas. I’m sorry.” He shifted his weight. “It’s late. I’m exhausted.” 

“All right.” Castiel looked back down at the comforter. “Good night, Dean.” 

“Night Cas.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sleep eluded him over the few days. He tried not to let it show, they had enough problems as it was. After four restless nights, frustrated and angry, Castiel snuck down to the dungeon. He’d stolen the key from Dean’s room and Crowley’s cell wasn’t hard to find.

He had an idea. It was stupid, reckless and potentially deadly, but it might save Sam. He unlocked the door and opened it carefully. It was dark and musty and the air was heavier in this part of the bunker. He fumbled against the wall searching for a light switch. 

“To the left,” came a voice. “No, love, your other left.” 

Castiel felt the switch and turned on the light. Crowley sat tied to a chair in the center of a devil’s trap looking completely at home.

“Well this is new,” said Crowley, tapping his fingers against the armrests. “When did you get here?” 

“About a week ago,” answered Castiel.

“You don’t stink of Heaven. Dare I venture a guess? Has Castiel fallen from grace?”

“I am human,” answered Castiel. “Yes.” 

Crowley grinned. “I’m not the man I used to be either. I think we can both blame the Winchesters for our predicaments.” 

Castiel glared. “I’m not here for idle chatter. I’m here for Sam.”

“How is he? Is he dead yet?”

“He needs help.” 

“And you think I’m going to assist?” 

“I wasn’t going to ask.” Castiel pulled a syringe from his pocket. He approached Crowley carefully. 

It didn’t take him long to catch on. “You know,” said Crowley. “I almost _want_ to help you. This, of all your plans, has got to be the stupidest.” 

Castiel reached him and felt for a vein in the back of his hand. 

“What do you think they’ll do to you when they find out?” asked Crowley. “I bet we’ll end up roomies. You’re welcome to that dark corner over there. I’m certainly not using it.” 

Castiel ignored him as he began drawing blood. 

“How are you going to get this to dear old Moose? Put it in his cereal?”

Castiel’s lip twitched. He knew exactly how to get the blood to Sam.

“Oh, you already have an idea. How exciting. Keep me posted. I won’t tell anyone. It will be so much better when Dean finds out on his own.”

Castiel carefully capped the syringe and turned away.

“Until we meet again,” said Crowley. 

He locked the dungeon door and crept back upstairs.

 

* * * 

After dinner that night Dean went to make Sam’s tea. 

Castiel followed him. “I have a suggestion,” he said. 

“Ok, shoot.” 

“You have a subspecies of bloodroot growing in the garden. I harvested some and made a liquid from the leaves and root. We should add it to Sam’s tea.” 

Dean made a face. “Will it help?”

“It won’t hurt,” answered Castiel. “It was very popular during the 1800s. Humans used it with varying degrees of success.” He retrieved a bowl from the refrigerator. He’d diluted the blood with tea and sugar to make it appear thinner, less violently red and to mask the flavor. He hoped it was enough to convince Dean.

“That looks fucking disgusting,” said Dean. 

“It looks worse than it is. If anything, it tastes like earth.” 

“Like dirt, you mean.”

“Yes.” 

“All right. Does Sammy need to drink all of that?” 

Castiel nodded. His voice suddenly caught in his throat. Lying to Dean was always too easy. Dean had yet to learn that Castiel wasn’t someone to be trusted. 

“Should we do half and half and let him drink it in several cups?” asked Dean.

“Yes,” answered Castiel. It was all he could say.

Dean took the bowl from him and added half a cup to Sam’s tea.

Castiel held his breath. He watched Dean mix the tea and take it to Sam. He watched him offer his brother the cup and he watched Sam drink it.

“Does it suck?” asked Dean.

“It’s really sweet,” answered Sam. He took another sip. “It’s actually pretty good.” 

“That’s good because we’ve got two more cups worth that you have to drink tonight.” 

Sam took a large gulp despite the fact that it was still hot. “Fine by me,” he said. 

And so Castiel’s routine began. Every night he snuck into the dungeon and harvested blood from Crowley. At dinner the following evening he’d help prepare the tea. Eventually, Dean turned over tea duty to Castiel exclusively. 

Sam took a turn for the better. His eyes were less sunken, his skin regained some color and his appetite returned. As a result, the rest of the team got stronger. Dean didn’t drink as much. He spent less time sheltered in the library and more time researching hunts. Kevin and his mother finally seemed to relax. They made the bunker their home. 

Castiel still wasn’t sleeping well, but as a result he quickly learned the routines of the others. Sam was waking up earlier and earlier. One day he woke up before everyone else and went for a run. He came back while Dean and Castiel were making breakfast. Dean was so happy he almost cried. 

“Look at you,” he said, slapping Sam on the back. “We might be able to take you hunting again soon.”

“I’d like that,” said Sam. “I’ve been bored out of my mind.” 

“Cas, we need to make sure we keep that plant crap stocked. Do we have more seeds? Do I need to get seeds? Will this crap heal us after a hunt?” 

“We have plenty of seeds,” answered Castiel. “I don’t know what else it might be able to heal.” There was, in fact, a bloodroot species growing in the garden. Castiel had cut out a patch to make sure it looked properly harvested. He even went so far as to hang drying roots in his room. They had more seeds in a room that, at one point, might have been a sort of greenhouse for the Men of Letters.

“Well as long as it keep Sammy healthy, I don’t care what else it does,” said Dean.

“Amen to that,” said Sam. “I didn’t want to tell you guys this, but I didn’t think I was going to make it.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Dude, nobody thought you were going to make it. I gave up trying to figure out how to heal you a long time ago.”

“Then what the hell have you been doing in the library?” asked Sam. 

“Looking for ways to bring you back,” answered Dean. “Found a few resurrection spells that looked promising.”

Sam sighed. “The life of a hunter.” 

“At least you’re better now,” said Castiel quietly.

“Damn straight,” said Dean. “I owe you one, Cas. When you came to me with that nasty herb shit I didn’t think it had a snowball’s chance in hell of working, but fuck me. Look at Sam now. He’s fine.” 

Sam grinned. “I’m going to make a smoothie. Can I add some of the bloodroot to it?” 

“Sure,” answered Castiel. 

“Great. I’ve got a craving for it. I’m surprised how good it is.” 

“Gross,” muttered Dean. “Another disgusting plant for Sam to blend and claim it’s a meal.” 

The rest of the day went by smoothly. That night Castiel slept for an hour, then awoke to steal more blood from Crowley. He stopped abruptly when someone said his name. He turned on his heels to find Dean.

“What are you doing up?” asked Dean. 

“Thirsty,” answered Castiel quickly.

“Me too,” said Dean. “I’m going to grab a beer. Want to join me?” 

Castiel nodded. He was suddenly at war with himself. Half of him was convinced Dean knew and the other half was certain he was just being paranoid. 

“I don’t know how to thank you,” said Dean. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think I deserve your help, but for what ever reason you always come through for us—for me.” He took a step closer. 

“I’d do anything for you,” said Castiel. 

Dean shifted his weight. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’d do anything for you, too.” 

He didn’t know about the blood. This was Dean struggling to hold on to hope, not Dean hiding his rage. 

Tentatively, Castiel approached him. Dean became very still. Castiel gently embraced him and was surprised when Dean willingly returned the gesture. 

Dean squeezed him against his chest. “You don’t know what it means to me,” he said quietly, “having you here, knowing you’re—knowing we’re all safe.”

Castiel took a chance and let his forehead rest on Dean’s shoulder. Dean responded by threading his fingers through Castiel’s hair. They swayed slowly together, moved by some silent melody. 

“We can have this,” whispered Castiel. 

Dean stopped swaying. “You know we can’t.” He pulled away and held Castiel at arms length. “I wish,” he began, then frowned. “Good night, Cas.” With that he turned and went back to his room. 

Castiel stared after him. “I wish, too,” he whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

Crowley, blood-tea, two hours of sleep, pretend to harvest bloodroot, shower, wait for Sam to leave for his run, wait for Dean to wake up and start breakfast. That was Castiel’s routine. Once Dean was in the kitchen, Castiel would come out pretending to rub sleep from his eyes and he’d make a pot of coffee. At this point, coffee was the only thing keeping him upright. 

“I want to take a look at your back,” said Dean. Sam was still out running and the Trans weren’t awake yet. 

His back had healed to the point Dean didn’t need to help him with it, or at least that’s what he told Dean. The truth was it was still sore and probably one reason he couldn’t sleep, that and guilt. 

He was being childish, not letting Dean help him, but help from Dean came with too many what-ifs and almosts. 

“It’s fine,” answered Castiel. 

“Great,” said Dean. “I still want to look.” 

Castiel sighed. “No,” he said. 

“Yes,” said Dean. “I haven’t seen it in a while.” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I’m fine,” answered Castiel, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Why are you being a dick about it?” 

“Because.” 

“Cas.” 

He took another sip. 

Dean snatched the cup from his hand. “Answer me.” 

“It’s too much,” snapped Castiel. “It’s too close. I can’t—If we’re not—” He huffed and lowered his voice. “If we can’t be—happy, then I can’t let you do things like that. It always turns into something more but then you get scared and leave me wondering what happened. I can’t do that any more. If you want information about my wellbeing, I’ll ask Sam to look at my scars.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“The first night you found me, we shared a bed,” hissed Castiel. “You held me, you were kind and gentle, then you acted like it never happened.” 

“I was tired and delusional.” 

“Then you bathed me, again while we were alone, but that’s something you haven’t done since. You massaged my back but refused to let me help you, then you came so close to being honest that night in the hall but each incident is separated by days or weeks.” 

Dean didn’t say anything in return. 

“Now you want to look at my wounds and I can’t help but think that is an excuse to share an intimate moment again and I can’t live that way. I can’t be satisfied with crumbs of intimacy. We don’t have to tell anyone if it makes you uncomfortable, I admit, it’s easier for me to keep this a secret as well, but I want more than pieces. I want all of you.” 

“Cas, I can’t—”

“Yes,” said Castiel, “you can. You just won’t.”

“You don’t understand.” 

“I understand that I love you,” said Castiel, “that I’ve loved you for years, that I never knew love until I knew you. And I want, with everything that I am, to believe that you love me too.” He took his cup back from Dean. “But all evidence points to the contrary and I refuse to be just another one of your conquests.” 

Castiel didn’t give him a chance to deny or confirm his suspicions. He turned quickly and left the kitchen. He retreated to his room, clinging to the last of his dignity. Maybe it was sleep deprivation that pulled the truth from him. Maybe it was a side effect of his new humanity. Whatever the reason, it was more than he’d meant to admit at one time but no less true. 

He set his coffee on the desk and sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He didn’t have anything else to do for the rest of the day. He didn’t have anything to do until it was time to visit Crowley again. He could stay hidden for hours.

He heard a soft knock at the door and his stomach dropped. “Come in,” he called.

“Cas?” Dean closed the door behind him. “I’m sorry about all that stuff. I didn’t mean to lead you on like that.” 

“It’s fine,” muttered Castiel. 

“I’m really sorry if you misinterp—” 

Castiel held a hand up but didn’t look at him. “Please,” he said. “It’s all right. I’m all right. I’m just tired. If you’d leave me here to rest and regain some illusion of dignity I’d be eternally grateful.” 

He heard Dean back away. “Yeah,” he said. “Ok. I’ll save you some breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

The door clicked shut as Dean left.

Castiel brushed the tears from the corners of his eyes and curled onto the bed. He’d be fine in the long run. He’d hide this away with the rest of his shame and count on Dean to be courteous enough to pretend it never happened. That would make the break easier when Dean found out how Sam was actually being healed. 

It was lunchtime before he could muster up enough courage to leave his room. His emotions were properly buried and he’d managed to remind himself why he was at the bunker to begin with. Sam was sick. Dean needed help making him better. 

He found Sam and Dean in the war room.

“We’ve got a case,” said Sam. “You feel up to going out?”

“Yes,” answered Castiel. It was automatic. He didn’t think about whether or not he wanted to go.

“Good,” said Dean. He didn’t make eye contact with Castiel. “I’ll pack the bags. Cas, let Sam take a look at your back before we head out.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, I assure you.” 

Sam groaned. “You guys had a fight, didn’t you?” 

“No,” they answered in unison.

“Great,” muttered Sam. “This will be a fun trip.”

It was not a fun trip. It was an awkward car ride, a large vampire nest, and not one of their more graceful hunts. Castiel was sore after two hours in the car. He was slow reacting to the monsters. His human hearing was almost useless over the screech of the nest and he missed nearly half of Dean’s instructions. 

As a result, Castiel was attacked and out of commission early into the fight. Dean proceeded as usual but Sam did the most damage. He was unstoppable. He was faster than Castiel had ever seen him, less hesitant and more ruthless.

Once the nest was destroyed Dean gave Sam a high five and said it was his best work to date. He didn’t say much to Castiel. 

“If you’re going to hunt with us, you have to hunt like a human,” said Dean. 

“My apologies.” 

Sam knelt in front of him. “You don’t look so good.” He squinted at him. “Shit Cas, you _really_ don’t look good.” 

“I just dislocated my shoulder,” said Castiel. 

“And busted your lip, and got a black-eye and you’re bleeding and you’re really pale.” 

At that, Dean came over to inspect him as well. “Jesus,” he muttered. He knelt beside him. “Let me pop your shoulder back into place.” 

He reached for him at the same moment Castiel jerked away. “I’m fine,” he snapped.

“Fine,” Dean snapped back. “Let Sam help you. I’ll be in the goddamn car.”

The ride home was no less awkward. Sam sat in the backseat with him and made a decent attempt at small talk. Castiel’s shoulder was back in its socket but it still hurt. Dean didn’t bother playing music and he didn’t say a word for the entire trip home. 

That night, Castiel skipped dinner and took a shower instead. He wasn’t terribly hungry. He forgot humans had a tendency to skip meals while undergoing emotional turmoil. 

He was trying to fall asleep when someone knocked softly at his door. He quickly dismissed all hope of that someone being Dean.

“Come in,” he said. 

Sam opened the door, first aid kit in one hand and a cup in the other. “I made you some tea,” he said. “I used some of that stuff you keep in the fridge. If it helped me, it might help you.” 

Castiel suppressed a shudder. “Thank you,” he said. He wondered if he’d have to drink the tea in front of Sam. 

“I also brought some other stuff because I really don’t think you’re doing so good.”

“I promise, I’m f—”

“Cas, I just spent months pretending to be fine. You’re not fine. I’m not even sure you’ve been sleeping. Take your shirt off and let me look at your back. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Dean, but you’re not mad at me, right?” 

Castiel sighed. “Right.” 

Sam brightened a bit. “Good.” He set the first aid kit on the bed and the tea on Castiel’s desk. “It’s still really hot,” he said.

Hot demon blood. Castiel’s stomach flipped. 

“Shirt?” 

Castiel removed the garment and unwrapped the gauze. He turned his back to Sam and heard a small gasp. He hung his head. He knew what it looked like. He’d seen the scars in the mirror. They were a pathetic reminder of what he used to be.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam quietly. 

“It’s all right.” 

“We’ll get your grace back, I promise.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t deserve grace. He didn’t deserve Sam. After everything he’d done he didn’t deserve to live in a home or fight alongside capable hunters.

“You want to talk about what happened with Dean? Do I get to know?”

“It was nothing. I’m not sure I remember exactly.”

Sam sighed. “All right. You don’t have to tell me.” He poked at Castiel’s back. “I think this is healing as best it can. I’m sure it still hurts though. You don’t need to wrap it anymore. It’s probably good to let it breathe. I’m going to rub some aloe on it. That might help. I think it’s still going to leave pretty big scars.” 

“I expected as much.” 

“Give it half and hour or so to dry, then you can put your shirt back on.” Sam cleared his throat. “Um, you don’t mind if I do this, right? I’m used to bossing Dean around but I realize I probably don’t have to do that with you.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“Good. You should feel a little better after this. It’s going to be cold at first. Sorry about that.” 

He heard Sam squeeze something into his hand. As soon as it touched his back, he flinched. 

“Sorry,” muttered Sam.

“You were right,” said Castiel. “It is cold.”

“Yeah, I have a love/hate relationship with this stuff. I mean it’s great for burns but for the first few seconds it makes everything worse.”

Sam talked him through was he was doing. He was gentle but clinical and Castiel couldn’t help but compare his touch to the way Dean lingered. Castiel didn’t misinterpret anything. Dean was leading him on and apparently for no particular reason. 

He thanked Sam when he was finished. Then, suddenly struck with an idea, he took his tea and followed him out of the room. “I need to grab a book,” he said. 

Sam split from him at the kitchen and Castiel proceeded to the library. As predicted, Dean was in the room, along with Kevin. Castiel walked past Dean, pretended to search for a book, grabbed one that claimed to have information on angels, then turned and faced the room.

Dean was staring at him. 

“What?” asked Castiel, careful to add bite to his question. 

Dean snorted. “Nothing,” he muttered. He returned to his computer.

Feeling marginally better, Castiel returned to his room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas digs himself into a deeper hole...someone make him stop

“You know,” said Crowley, “we have all the makings of a deal at our disposal.”

Castiel ignored him, as he did most nights. 

“It’s a good deal. You might want to listen before I offer it to your boyfriend instead.” 

He stuck the needle into Crowley’s skin.

“I’ll tell you first. That’s seems fair and like more fun,” said Crowley. “If you let me go, I won’t tell Dean you’ve been stealing my blood and feeding it to Sammy Dearest.” 

“Go ahead,” said Castiel.

“You think he won’t believe me? You’re not the only visitor I get, you know. And you’re not as careful as you think.”

He capped the syringe. “What does that mean.”

“Oh, oops. I’ve said too much.”

“I’m not releasing you.”

“Suit yourself. Just be extra careful you lock the door behind you this time.”

A chill ran down his spine. 

“Who else would come down here to visit a stinking demon, I wonder?” Crowley smirked. “Dean wondered the same thing.”

Castiel took a step back. 

“Intrigued?”

He folded his arms over his chest. 

“The walls are closing in,” he said, “but if you let me go, I’ll take responsibility for my escape and I’ll even tell you how to wean Sam off of delicious, delicious demon blood.”

“I can’t let you go.”

“If you can’t, Dean can. I’m sure he’ll want to know what’s wrong with Sam, and once he finds out, I’m sure _he’ll_ want to know how to help him. And I’m sure he’ll want to know _how_ Sam got his hands on the blood.”

Castiel ran a hand over his face. Crowley had kept his mouth shut for weeks. Of course he was biding his time. “How often does Dean come down here?” he asked.

“Every few days. If you let me go now, he won’t figure it out until his next visit.”

“A few days from now?”

“Or tomorrow,” answered Crowley. “Time tends to blur together down here.” 

“Tell me how to cure Sam first.”

“It hurts me to know you don’t think we can trust each other.”

“If you want to get out, then you have to tell me how to cure Sam.”

“Well, healing him with grace is the obvious answer,” said Crowley, grinning brightly. “But since you don’t have that, the easiest thing to do is take enough of my blood to last for the next month and slowly give him less and less. My blood is potent. A gradual detox is best.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I could have figured that out on my own.”

“You were hoping I knew of a spell? Unfortunately, I don’t.” 

“You’re a terrible person.” 

“I know.” 

“You’ll let me take the blood I need?” 

“Of course. A deal’s a deal.” 

It must have been fear that moved him. It must have been fear that made him collect the blood, then unbind Crowley. It was certainly fear that allowed Crowley to leave. The King of Hell was only muted in terms of power, but he would be dangerous again soon. 

Crowley left with a quiet “ta-ta,” and left Castiel alone. 

* * *

Sam and Dean left for a hunt. Castiel stayed behind. He ended up working with Mrs. Tran in the garden. 

“I had no idea this flower had supernatural abilities,” she said. She pulled a plant up by the root and Castiel showed her how to tie it. 

“It’s old medicine,” said Castiel. “I was lucky to stumble upon it.” 

“We were all lucky. You saved both of those boys.” 

“I used to do more for them.” He told himself he chose to stay behind, but the truth was Sam and Dean didn’t invite him. They tried to be somewhat casual about it but no one was fooled. They couldn’t take Castiel with them anymore. He was too much of a risk. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” She presented the tied root.

“Perfect,” he said. He wondered how much blood Sam needed to be able to destroy demons like he used to. He wondered how much longer he had before Dean made him leave. 

“I think they’re worried about you,” she said. 

“They worry a lot.”

“I’m worried about you.” 

Castiel frowned. “Why?”

“You used to be an angel. Human life is hard, but I can only imagine how it must be for you.” She set a hand on his arm. “If you were my son, I’d tell you to rest more. I’d pry and ask why you weren’t sleeping, if it was nightmares or injuries or something else.” 

Castiel opened his mouth, then closed it. 

“I have trouble sleeping too,” she said. “I know you patrol the bunker at night to make sure everyone is safe.”

His heart dropped into his gut. 

“If you were my son, I’d make you talk to me. But you’re an angel and I don’t have any right to demand that.”

Castiel looked down at the grass. He couldn’t keep staring at her. 

“I can’t make you talk,” she said, “but I can ask nicely.” 

He swallowed hard. “I’m not making sure everyone is safe,” he said. “I just can’t sleep, so I wander.” 

“Why can’t you sleep?” 

“I don’t know,” he answered. His eyes were wet again, this time he wasn’t sure why. Emotions were tedious things. 

“What do you think about before bed?” 

He sighed. “Everything.” 

“Me too,” she said. “That’s the problem. We need to learn to think less.” 

“I don’t know how to do that.” 

“I can give you a suggestion.” She grinned. “It’s not healthy, but I find that a shot of vodka before bed makes sleep a little less problematic.” 

“Vodka?”

“Or whatever liquor you prefer. I bet if you start sleeping again and make sure you’re eating enough; you’ll be ready to hunt again soon. You can’t drink every night, obviously, but you have to start somewhere – and no more coffee.” She jabbed a finger at him. “You have almost a full pot every day and you can’t keep doing that.” 

Castiel nodded. 

“Sam and Dean will be back late. You don’t need to stay up late waiting for them.” 

He nodded again.

“I’ll make dinner, then you and Kevin will be in bed by nine.” 

“That’s early, isn’t it?” 

“Not considering how much rest you both need.” She raised an eyebrow and for some reason, Castiel didn’t argue with her.

That night he went to bed when he was told. He took a drink, as suggested, and waited. When nothing happened, he took another one, then another. 

The next thing Castiel knew there was a loud banging noise ringing through the bunker.

Castiel sat up, blinking into the darkness. He was somewhat certain he’d been asleep but he didn’t know for how long. Someone was shouting. 

“Red alert! Everybody get their asses in here right now!” 

He scrambled out of bed and hurried out of his room. Sam and Kevin joined him in the hall. Mrs. Tran was disappearing ahead of them. They found Dean in the kitchen banging a pot.

“King Dirtbag is out of his cage,” growled Dean. “I want all of you front and center.”

They lined up in front of him, most of them yawning.

“Who let him out?” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Sam. 

“Crowley is gone. Somebody let him out. Who did it?” 

Kevin rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t. Can I go back to bed?” 

“This is serious,” said Dean. “We’ve got an assload of pissed off angels, a knight of hell and now mother fucking Crowley to worry about?” 

“A knight of hell?” asked Castiel.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Dean, then he rounded on Castiel. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“No,” he answered flatly. 

“He probably escaped,” said Sam. ”We knew couldn’t hold him forever.”

“I thought Abaddon was taken care of,” said Castiel.

“No,” snapped Dean. “Nothing is ‘taken care of.’ Everything is shit and Crowley escaping just makes it shittier. Metatron, Crowley, Abaddon, am I missing anybody?” 

“Knock it off,” said Sam. 

“This is why you woke us up?” snapped Mrs. Tran. “You could have yelled at us in the morning.” 

“Crowl—” 

Sam cut him off. “There’s nothing we can do about it right now. I’m going back to bed.”

“How do we know someone didn’t let him go?” 

“Because no one here is a demon,” said Sam. “Go the fuck to sleep. We’ll deal with it in the morning.” 

“For God’s sake listen to Sam,” said Kevin. 

“Why are you fighting Metatron?” asked Castiel. “He’s my responsibility.” 

“Yeah, right,” said Dean. “Because you’re perfect fighting condition. It took you two weeks to get the hang of brushing your teeth.” 

Castiel glared. “I’m going back to bed.” 

“Fine, but you’re still a suspect,” called Dean. 

Castiel ignored the rest of their talking. He walked briskly to his room and shut the door. He was alone, again and again he found himself sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. He never should have confessed his feelings. Dean was his best friend and now he’d not only betrayed him, but isolated himself to the point they couldn’t even carry on a conversation. 

Maybe he could wean Sam off of the blood and confess later. Maybe Dean would be less angry after the fact. Maybe Sam would forgive him. Or maybe this plan would backfire like every other plan he’d tried to execute.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character death ahead

Dean jumped, scattering his blankets as Castiel kicked down the door to his room. He was panting and his cheeks were flushed.

“Say it again,” he breathed.

“Say what?” asked Dean.

“Your prayer,” answered Castiel. He let his trench coat and jacket fall to the floor. “Say it again.”

Dean gulped.

He yanked the tie from around his neck and threw it down. He approached the bed and crawled onto Dean, straddling his lap. He took the hunter by his wrists and pinned him to the mattress. “Say it,” he growled.

“I want you,” murmured Dean.

Castiel kissed him, hot and desperate. He buried his tongue in Dean’s mouth, licking and exploring. He hummed when they finally broke apart. “I’ve waited years to hear that,” he said.

“I’ve waited years to say it,” said Dean.

“Idiot,” he muttered, diving into Dean’s mouth again. He pushed his hips down against him.

Dean gasped. “I want you,” he said again.

Castiel grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt and ripped it from his body. His hand quickly returned to Dean’s wrist. His mouth latched onto Dean’s neck as he thrust against him.

“Where did you learn that?”

“You,” answered Castiel. “I remade you. I know what you like and how hard you like it.”

Dean gulped again.

“And I’ve had to listen to your incessant accounts of romantic conquest for years. Don’t think I haven’t paid attention.”

“Sweet Jesus.”

Castiel bit him then licked at his throat. He used one hand to pin Dean and the other to undo Dean’s pants. He cupped Dean’s cock and the world began to blur.

“I want you,” said Dean.

“You love me,” said Castiel.

Dean wrapped his arms around him. “I can’t, I’m so sorry.”

The light around them was fading fast.

“Why?” demanded Castiel.

Dean kissed him again. “It’s too dangerous here. I can’t.” Suddenly he began to fade as well.

“Don’t go,” said Castiel.

“We can’t live in a dream.”

“What does that mean?”

“Cas.”

“What?”

“Wake up.”

He buried his face against Dean.

“Wake up, dude.”

Castiel jerked awake.

Sam was shaking him. “Sorry to wake you up, but we’re going on a hunt. Want to come with us?”

He frowned. “I might get in your way.”

“You won’t. We should have brought you on our last one but we thought we could handle it, just the two of us. Turns out we could really use a third.”

“Cas.” Dean’s voice came from the hall. “Get your shit. Linda lobbied for you so you’re coming with us. We got a salt’n burn to get to.”

Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Mrs. Tr—Linda ‘lobbied’ for me?” asked Castiel.

“Kind of,” he said.

“Sam,” he said, “you don’t have to take me with you. I don’t need your pity.”

“I lobbied for you to come with us, too.”

Dean poked his head around the corner. “What’s taking so long? Let’s go.”

Castiel glared at him, but directed his comment to Sam. “So Dean’s the only one who didn’t want me there.”

“For the love of god,” muttered Dean. He disappeared from the doorway.

Sam nudged him. “Come on,” he said. “Dean’s just being a jerk. We need a third and you’re a damn good hunter.”

Castiel thought about another day in the bunker and weighed it against a day spent outside. Even if it meant coming home beat and bleeding it would be better than doing nothing. Against his better judgment he ended up in the back seat of the Impala en route to a haunted suburban home.

 

* * *

 

Dean was right. It was a routine salt and burn. The unexpected part came when Sam split from the two of them. He was so much faster than usual and his strength was unprecedented. They lost him when he rounded a corner in the dark house.

“Sammy!” called Dean. “Goddamn it.”

Panting, Castiel hurried after him. Something cold and hard slammed into him and knocked him to the ground.

Dean stopped and whirled around. He grabbed Cas by the wrist and yanked him to his feet. “If you’re going to hunt with us you’ve got to keep up,” he said.

Castiel jerked away from him and looked for what struck him. He saw a broken lamp near where he fell. “Poltergeist,” he muttered.

Dean reached for his hand again. “Come on.”

Again Castiel yanked away.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to find Sam. Keep up or you’re on your own.”

After that Castiel deliberately slowed down. It must have been pride. Human emotions were so fickle. He was suddenly determined to find and destroy the poltergeist on his own. He crept through the house, iron pipe in hand. He was going to find the monster, kill it and prove he was worth bringing along; prove he didn’t need Dean. He heard something and ran towards the sound.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks. He grabbed the wall to steady himself.

Sam was bathed in moonlight with a pale figure screeching before him. The poltergeist was trapped in roughly draw ring of salt. Sam had a shotgun in his hand. He fired shot after shot of rock salt, laughing hysterically as the monster howled and thrashed. Across the room, in another doorway he saw Dean staring at his little brother.

Finally, after the poltergeist collapsed to the floor, Sam held a doll and a lighter in front of him. He lit it and set it on the floor to burn. His face was wild and manic, illuminated by flames. He swallowed hard and grinned at the burning, shrieking creature. He brushed the hair from his eyes and grinned.

Castiel’s breath caught in his throat. He’d gone too far. The Sam he knew bore no resemblance to the man standing in the middle of the room.

Dean moved forward, a hand outstretched. “Sammy?”

Sam wiped his brow. “That was a hell of a chase,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Dean slowly. “You feeling ok?”

“I feel fucking fantastic.”

“I’ve never seen you so—uh—giddy—about a kill before.”

“I guess I’m just happy to get out of the bunker.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah, ok, guess that makes sense.”

Castiel didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he could. He didn’t say a word until they reached the hotel. Even then he only said “yes” when Dean offered him the sleeper sofa. He knew the risks. He knew what might happen to Sam if he drank too much blood. He knew Sam would get worse before he got better.

They hit the road early the following morning. Sam and Dean seemed normal and Dean didn’t seem suspicious, not yet at least. Castiel was still waiting for the truth to surface. Dean was already mad at him. Sam had no idea he’d been betrayed. The Trans probably wouldn’t trust him once they knew. He was better off leaving on his own instead of waiting for them to kick him out. No one would want him after this.

They arrived at the bunker late that night. Castiel had the truth on the tip of this tongue. At least he had enough blood to get Sam back to himself. At least he had a backup plan.

They entered the bunker one by one, none of the disturbed by the eerie silence. Kevin and his mother should be asleep. It made sense for the place to be quiet. Dean was the first one to enter the war room. He stopped in the doorway and dropped his duffle bag. Sam and Castiel hurried to see what halted him.

Kevin and Linda lay in a bloody mess on the floor. A woman with bright red hair sat in a chair beside their bodies.

“Welcome home, boys,” she said.

Dean’s fists were shaking, but it was Sam who lunged at her. They fell into the blood, grappling with one another while Castiel and Dean searched for weapons.

She threw Sam off of her and held her hand out. An invisible blast sent Dean flying across the room. His head cracked against the wall. Castiel abandoned his search and went to Dean’s side, but the hunter shoved him away.

“It’s Abaddon,” he said. “Get your blade.”

Castiel hurried back to his bag. Dean gave him one job. He had to find his angel blade. The fight swelled around him. Abaddon was a knight of Hell, too strong to be taken down by normal means. Things that annihilated other demons would merely wound her.

Sam stabbed her with Ruby’s knife. Abaddon laughed and pulled it from her body. She was there to kill.

Dean lunged and she grabbed him by the throat and lifted him from the floor. He kicked the air and clawed at her hands. Castiel found his blade, he flipped it in his hand, prepared to throw it but Sam was ahead of him.

He had one hand outstretched and he began shouting in Latin.

Abaddon dropped Dean and he crumpled. Sam took a step closer. Abaddon’s body twitched. She opened her mouth and smoke appeared. Sam clenched his fist and the smoke was forced back into her body. She screamed.

Finally, Castiel snapped back to himself. Blade in hand he rushed across the room and plunged it into her chest. With one last shriek, light burst from her body and she disappeared.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean slammed Castiel against the wall. “You gave him blood!” he screamed.

“I can explain,” said Castiel

“You let Crowley go.” He slammed him into the wall again.

“Stop it,” shouted Sam.

“Traitor!” He threw Castiel to the ground.

The three of them were bloody, beaten and exhausted. Kevin and Linda were dead. Abaddon was dead. But Dean didn’t take time to process any of that. They all saw Sam freeze Abaddon. They all saw him force her to stay. They all knew what that meant.

“It was the only way to save him,” said Castiel. He didn’t know why he was bothering to defend himself. He was a traitor. He deserved this.

Sam pulled Dean away from him. “He saved me,” said Sam.

“He could have killed you,” snapped Dean. “He could have turned you into a demon. We don’t know how much blood it takes.”

Castiel stayed on the floor.

“You could have killed my brother,” shouted Dean. “Look at me, you son of a bitch!”

Castiel lifted his head. Sam was the only thing between him and Dean. He deserved this.

“Dungeon,” said Dean, jabbing a finger at him. “We can’t trust you anymore.”

“We’re not going to lock him up,” said Sam.

“Then he can get the hell out of our house.”

“Goddamn it,” muttered Sam. “Cas, go get cleaned up and wait for me in your room.”

“No,” said Dean. He pushed past Sam. “Get out.” He pulled Castiel up by the shirt collar. His voice was low and dangerous. “I don’t ever want to see you again. Understand?”

Castiel nodded.

“Good.” He shoved him toward the door.

Castiel stumbled up the stairs.

“Wait,” said Sam.

Castiel turned. “There’s enough blood left to wean you off of it slowly," he said. "Lessen the amount each day and you should return to normal in a month.”

“Don’t go,” said Sam.

Dean grabbed Sam by the arm and Sam pushed him away. “Fuck off,” he snapped. “Cas doesn’t deserve this.”

Suddenly it was too much. Suddenly something snapped in Castiel and he couldn’t take it anymore. Suddenly his feet were moving faster and he was outside. He thought he heard Sam calling after him but he couldn’t be sure. He kept running. He reached the woods and didn’t look back. Eventually the voices faded. He stopped in a dense, wooded area and collapsed.

The dirt was cold and damp and in his rush, he didn’t even think to take his coat. He had the clothes on his back; Dean’s clothes to be specific. He sat at the base of a tree and hugged his knees to his chest.

 

* * *

He woke up to rain, heavy and freezing. The only positive was it helped wash away the blood and grim from last night’s fight. He cleaned himself as best he could then followed the sounds of the highway. Dean taught him something about hitchhiking but in his condition, no one was going to pick him up.

Shivering, he walked in the opposite direction of traffic and stayed close to the tree line. A car passed. He heard tires slow to a stop on the wet pavement behind him. He fought the urge to run.

“Cas,” shouted Sam.

He tilted his head. He heard the familiar rumble of the Impala rush past them. It slowed to an abrupt stop behind Sam’s car.

Sam ran toward him. “Come with me and ignore Dean.”

“I thought I wasn’t welcome,” he said.

Dean slammed the door and marched toward them.

Sam folded his arms over his chest and stood in front of Castiel. “You better think before you cause a scene on the side of the road in the middle of fuck-all nowhere Kansas.”

Dean bit his lip and seemed to swallow his rage. It appeared to take a great deal of effort. He clenched his jaw. “Fine,” he said finally. “But Cas rides back with me.”

“Hell no,” said Sam. “I told you not to follow me. Get back in the car. We’ll meet you at the bunker.”

“I’m not letting you and your dealer ride off together.”

“I’ll ride with him,” said Castiel.

Sam glared at Dean. “Don’t hurt him.”

Dean grabbed Castiel by the elbow and dragged him back to the Impala. They followed Sam back to the bunker.

“I’m sorry,” said Castiel. “I couldn’t think of another way to save him.”

“Save it,” snapped Dean.

Castiel closed his eyes, tears welling up behind his lashes. Now was not the time for weakness and emotion. He needed to prove he was strong and redeemable. They pulled into the garage behind Sam.

Dean got out of the car then dragged Castiel out behind him. He marched them into the bunker, through the kitchen and into a now-clean war room. The chairs were upright, the walls and floors were clean; there was no sign of murder, no sign of the prophet and his mother.

Castiel could still see them though. He could still hear them. It was as if they were in their rooms. He almost expected to see them at dinner that evening. There was no evidence to suggest the permanence of their deaths.

Dean shoved him into a chair and glared down at him. “You let Crowley go.”

“Yes,” answered Castiel.

“Why?”

“He was going to tell you what I’d done.”

“But I found out anyway.”

Castiel nodded.

“So you let him go for nothing.”

He nodded again.

“So you can see why that would make me really fucking angry.”

“Yes.”

“Dude,” said Sam, “you said you’d go easy.”

“I am going easy,” snapped Dean. He turned back to Castiel. “You lied to us. You lied to Sammy.”

“Yes.”

“You got him hooked on blood again, even though you _know_ last time that happened we almost lost him.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t keep doing this, Cas. You can’t keep fucking us over then come crawling back begging for redemption.”

“I’m not asking for redemption.”

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t lock you in the dungeon like the traitor you are.”

Castiel shook his head. “I can’t think of one.”

Sam pushed him aside. “That’s enough,” he said. “Cas, go get cleaned up. Don’t run out on us this time.”

Castiel didn’t protest. He went to the shower with the Winchester’s voice echoing behind him. Dean wanted him gone. That was reason enough for him to leave, no matter what Sam said. He’d be more careful this time. He’d pack a bag and leave early in the morning. He had his blade, which was enough to keep him safe. He tried not to dwell on Kevin and his mother. If he started thinking about death he’d remember everyone he’d lost and if he did that he wouldn’t be able to stand himself anymore.

He couldn’t sleep that night, which came as no surprise. He was exhausted but the voices of his mistakes screamed loudest at night. He lay awake staring at the ceiling and prayed for one night of rest.

Suddenly he heard something loud, like glass shattering. He jumped out of bed and hurried toward the noise. The kitchen light was on. He found Dean on his knees with a rag muttering to himself.

Upon closer inspection he saw a broken beer bottle was the cause of the commotion.

Dean looked up. “Oh,” he said. “You.” He swayed a little too far and fell onto his side.

“You’re drunk,” said Castiel.

“No shit.”

He stepped around the glass and helped Dean stand. His hand was bleeding. “Sit at the table,” said Castiel. He grabbed a paper towel. “And hold this on your hand.”

Dean looked at his palm like he’d never seen blood before.

Castiel huffed and led him to the table and pushed him into a chair. He placed the paper towel over the cut and put Dean’s hand over it. “Don’t move.”

Dean didn’t argue which wasn’t a good sign. It meant he was heavily inebriated.

Castiel cleaned the mess quickly, then made sure Dean was still seated. “I’ll be right back,” he said. He hurried out of the room and grabbed the first aid kit. He returned to find Dean half lying on the table, half sitting in the chair.

“How much did you drink?” he asked.

“Lot,” answered Dean.

He took Dean’s hand and pulled the paper towel away. There wasn’t any glass in the wound, but it was deep. They were quiet as Castiel tended to the cut. Castiel was about to pull away when Dean put his hand over Castiel’s.

“Sorry I yelled,” muttered Dean.

“It’s all right. We need to get you to bed.”

“You realize your stupid plan saved us? Sammy was all hopped up on Crowley juice. That’s what did it for Abaddon.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say, but that’s all right. You can tell me in the morning.”

“No, wait. You saved us again, Cas. And I yelled at you again.”

“It’s all right. Put your hands on my shoulders.” He helped Dean sit up, then helped him stand.

Dean swayed and he fell forward against Castiel. “Sorry,” muttered Dean. “I’m a jackass.”

“You are, but we don’t need to dwell on that right now.” He half carried Dean back to his room. Dean collapsed face first onto his bed. Castiel sighed and rolled him over onto his back.

Dean grabbed his arm and looked up at him through his lashes. “Stay,” he breathed.

“No, I—”

“Drink with me. I got more booze under my bed.”

“No more alcohol,” said Castiel.

“C’mon, Cas. How else am I going to get you into bed?”

Castiel pulled his arm away and stood up. He backed away from the bed.

“Cas,” he whined.

“This is very confusing.”

“What’s confusing about you and me?”

“You said there was no ‘you and me’.”

“What about just tonight? We deserve it.”

“I’m not going to be a drunken fling,” said Castiel. “I told you, I love you and I won’t settle for less.”

“But what if I love you, too?” asked Dean. He propped himself up on one elbow.

“You don’t. You said I was misinterpreting things between us.”

“What if you aren’t?”

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest.

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to his feet. “Cas,” he said. “One night.” He staggered forward and Castiel stepped back. Dean continued his advance until Castiel was pressed between him and the wall. “C’mon Cas.”

Castiel’s hands were on Dean’s chest before he realized what he was doing.

Dean grinned down at him. “One night,” he whispered. His lips brushed against Castiel’s. “Let’s forget about the bullshit. We deserve one good night.” He leaned in closer and pressed their mouths together.

One night might not be so bad. One night with the man he loved. One night to live his fantasies. One night to remember forever.

He pushed back and broke away from the kiss. He needed more than a memory. He needed Dean; wanted Dean.

Dean went in for another kiss. “You love me,” he said, “don’t you.”

Castiel shoved him away and left the room. Dean could drink himself to death for all he cared. He went to his room and burrowed beneath the covers. He wiped his eyes and grappled with the emotions gnawing at his gut. He hugged himself and tried to believe he was worth more than one night.


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel overslept. His plan to wake up and leave fell through because for the first night in a long time, he fell asleep. He only woke up because Sam knocked on his door to check on him.

After a cup of coffee, something came over him. Dean wasn’t in the kitchen or the library. According to Sam he’d been working in the garage all day. Something about that fact made Castiel clench his fists and go in search of Dean. He found him hiding beneath the hood of the Impala.

“You were going to avoid me, weren’t you?” asked Castiel. To be fair, he shouldn’t yell at Dean for something he hadn’t done yet, but Castiel knew him well enough by now to know what Dean was planning. If he didn’t see Castiel for a day, they wouldn’t have to talk about what happened.

“What?” Dean straightened up and looked sincerely confused.

“Your plan was to hide in here all day and hope I didn’t come looking.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Last night.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not sorry about last night. I’m still mad at you and I’m not going to take it back.”

Castiel glared at him. “You’re going to pretend you don’t remember, aren’t you? That’s the game, right? You don’t remember, I take things too seriously, it’s never your fault.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You kissed me,” growled Castiel. “You propositioned me. You said we should spent ‘one night’ together.” He raked his hands through his hair. “And I almost fell for it. I almost bought it because you mean so much to me and I—” he shook his head. “I mean nothing to you.” Saying it out loud didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, but only because he didn’t believe it was true. It was Dean saying nothing in return that hurt. It was Dean letting him walk away, and go to his room, and start packing a bag that hurt. And it hurt again when Sam, not Dean, came to his room to stop him.

“I can’t stay,” said Castiel. “I feel like I’m crazy.”

“What happened?” asked Sam. “I mean, I’m sure it’s Dean but what did he do?”

“Ask him yourself,” answered Castiel.

“You can’t leave, you’re a target for the angels.” Sam started taking things out of Castiel’s bag. “You guys can work through this, you always do. Is he still giving you shit about the demon blood? Because I’m fine and I’ve talked to him, he shouldn’t have anything else to say about it.”

Castiel put his head in his hands. It was too much. He was too human. Much to his humiliation he started crying again.

“It’s all right,” said Sam. He put an arm around Castiel. “I’m not mad at you. Dean will get over it. He’s just got to be an asshole first because that’s how he is.”

They heard someone at the door and turned. Dean stood in the doorway looking at his feet. “Can I have a minute with Cas?”

Sam sighed. “Yeah.” He clapped Castiel on the shoulder and left them alone.

Dean came in and shut the door behind him. “So I kissed you?” he asked.

“You did.”

“Did I say anything or did I just—”

“You said what if you loved me, too. What if I wasn’t misinterpreting things.”

“Then I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Castiel. “I won’t read into it. You were drunk. I was available, I suppose. I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

“No I—” He sighed. “Yeah, I was drunk.”

“Yeah,” said Castiel. “Got it. You were drunk. It meant nothing.”

“I must have been really out of it.”

“Of course,” said Castiel. “You must have been the drunkest you’ve ever been to kiss me. Only under the most dire of circumstances would you ever stoop so low.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I just meant, like, look, I believe you if you said it happened. I just can’t imagine kissing a guy. That doesn’t sound like me.”

“So square one,” said Castiel. “You don’t remember. I could have killed Sam. You’re still mad and I’m still a traitor. If you leave me alone, I’ll pack and be gone within the hour.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“Last night you wanted me gone.”

“I was pissed last night.”

“I thought you were still pissed.”

“I am, but that doesn’t mean you have to go. Angels are looking for you. Your head’s on the chopping block.”

“Like you give a damn.”

“Just because I don’t love you like you love me doesn’t mean I don’t care,” snapped Dean.

Castiel rose to his feet and stalked toward Dean. “Liar,” he said. “You love me, you’re just too scared to admit it.”

“You don’t know what—”

“Yes, I do. You’re scared. You love me. I know you do. It’s not dangerous, you’re just afraid.”

“Everyone I love dies.”

“Bullshit,” spat Castiel. “You’re afraid because my vessel – my body – is male. You’re afraid you’ll lose your alpha hunter status. You’re afraid of what it would look like to the rest of the world, to your brother, to your dead father.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” said Dean.

Castiel advanced. “Say it,” he hissed. “Make it final, Dean. Prove me wrong.”

Dean stood his ground.   
“Say it.” Castiel shoved him back to the wall. “Say it,” he shouted. “Say it’s all in my head. Say we mean nothing.”

“You’re delusional,” said Dean.

“Coward.”

Dean pushed him back. “Fuck you!”

“Say you don’t love me!”

“I don’t love you!”

They stood staring at each other from opposite sides of the room.

“I don’t love you,” breathed Dean. He jabbed a finger at Castiel. “Don’t go running away like a bitch this time. You better stay the fuck here and help us fight. It’s not my fault you can’t take a fucking hint or keep your goddamn emotions in check.” He turned on his heels and slammed the door behind him.

Castiel spun around where he stood, picked up his lamp and threw it against the door; that was followed by his bedside table, books, phone and finally his shoes. He collapsed in a heap and held his head. Dean was a coward and he was a bitch. No wonder he thought they should be together.

 

* * *

The two-day drive to the haunted mill was miserable and silent. Questioning witnesses was miserable. Hunting the ghosts was miserable. Sam and Castiel were on grave duty while Dean stayed at the mill to make sure the spirits burned. Sam looked like he wanted to say something. He’d looked like that for the entire trip, but whatever it was he never voiced it.

They returned to their hotel room, Dean volunteered to take the sofa. They couldn’t stay in separate rooms because, according to Dean, it was too much trouble to ward two rooms and “angels could be anywhere.”

Castiel almost wanted to get captured. He wished Metatron had used all of him when he cast the angels from Heaven. He wished there were nothing left but Jimmy’s body, if that. He wished he were as hollow as he felt.

The ride home was miserable. The night after that was miserable. The following hunt was miserable. That was life. That was the world Castiel had created. He’d fallen in every aspect of his life, pushed away everyone he loved because he was stupid enough to push them to love him in return. He didn’t deserve love. He was a mistake, and disgrace. He was something God himself had forsaken and something angels would kill on sight.

He skipped the next hunt. He stayed in his room instead. At least he was finally able to sleep. At least he was learning to care for his body. The moment right before he woke up was the best. Those precious seconds where his subconscious was still groggy and his body was still quiet. In those seconds he could forget. He could pretend things were normal. He could think about how his bed was warm and soft and how he was safe and comfortable. In those seconds he had no shame, no regret, just sleep.

He started spending more time in bed and less time with the Winchesters. In the waking moments he mourned for his wings, his grace, his life; in sleep he was haunted by his mistakes and his past. He lived for those seconds when the world was still and he could forget. He had no reason to live, no reason to wake up. He wasn’t even hunting anymore. He’d become and expendable fuckup. He wondered how much misery a human could survive before it consumed them and they became something no one would recognize.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam left them to join a hunt with some people Castiel didn’t know. The way Dean rolled his eyes made Castiel suspect there was something more to Sam’s leaving. Whatever the reason, it left Castiel and Dean alone.

The second day of them being alone together, Dean knocked on Castiel’s door.

“There’s a witch in Tulsa,” he said. “Want to come with me?”

The alternative was sitting alone in the bunker. “Yes,” said Castiel.

“Meet me at the car in ten.”

Castiel packed slowly. He didn’t need much. He kept a bag ready to go for such occasions, but he was in no hurry to get in the car with Dean.

It was, as predicted, a quiet ride. They spent the next six hours listening to music. Dean didn’t talk or sing or hum so Castiel kept his mouth shut as well. They passed a bar and Dean suddenly made a u-turn.

“I need a drink,” he muttered. He parked the car and left without further comment.

Castiel decided that was a decent idea and followed him. He sat next to Dean at the bar, if only out of habit. They ordered drinks.  
“You’ve been awfully talkative today,” said Castiel.

Dean laughed. “Yeah, well.”

“ _Well_ , Sam isn’t here to buffer us.”

“And here I was thinking you’d be in a bad mood.”

Castiel turned away from Dean and picked a different seat. It was the most they’d said to each other in over a week, maybe longer. He drank quickly and ordered a second, glaring at Dean while he drank.

Dean was nursing a beer and eyeing the woman behind the bar. Dean didn’t refrain from flirting in front of him. He’d wink and send drinks to tables, all within clear view of Castiel. Tonight was no different. He bought the bartender a drink, flashed a toothy grin and said something that was presumably flirtatious in nature. He’d seen the move before, often. He’d seen Dean’s moves so many times he could perform them himself.

He drained his drink and ordered another. A man sat beside him. “Next drink is on me,” he said.

Castiel frowned and eyed his new friend. “Thank you,” he said. “Allow me to buy you a drink as well.”

The man clapped him on the shoulder, then his hand drifted to the center of Castiel’s back. He laughed. “What are you drinking?”

Castiel handed him his glass. “This,” he answered.

The man took a sip. “Not bad. We’ll get two more of those.”

Across the bar Dean made eye contact. Castiel stared him down and glared. He downed his third drink – or perhaps his fourth – then turned his attention to the stranger. They talked for a few minutes, maybe more. It didn’t matter after a while. Castiel lost sight of Dean. The bartender was still there.

“Come with me.”

“All right,” said Castiel. He followed the man from the bar. The man held his hand and led him across the room. Without thinking, Castiel rubbed his thumb over the back of the man’s hand. Suddenly they were outside. Suddenly they weren’t alone. Someone shoved him.

Castiel fell into the dirt. People were pulling on him, tearing at his clothes. He saw a flash of red, then a flash of sliver. He tried to figure out how many there were.

“Castiel,” said a voice.

His hands were pinned. He couldn’t move.

“Cas!”

There was another flash of sliver. Something heavy fell to the ground. Someone screamed.

Castiel felt someone grab him and lift him. Dean. He tried to touch him. They were running.

“Hang on, Buddy,” said Dean.

“I can’t feel my arms,” said Castiel, or at least he meant to say that. He lay down in the back of the Impala. Dean was gone.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s voice was the first thing to reach him, then blinding pain followed. Then there was a cloth on his forehead.

“Can you hear me?” asked Dean.

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“Here,” said Dean. He slipped a straw into the corner of Castiel’s mouth. “It’s just water. Drink slow.”

The water helped. He squinted up at Dean. “What happened?”

“You were attacked,” answered Dean. “Angels.”

He blinked. “There was a man.”

“Bait,” said Dean. “He lured you to the ambush. Son of a bitch put something in your drink. I didn’t see him do it but you were more fucked up than you should be for four drinks.”

“Four?”

“I’m sorry,” said Dean. “I was watching you but I lost sight when you left the bar. I should have been faster.”

“How many Angels?” asked Castiel.

“Two.”

“Who are they?”

“I didn’t exactly ask for names,” said Dean. “I was more focused on taking them down.”

Castiel blinked again. He could see Dean clearly now. His face was swollen on one side. He had a black eye and his nose was stuffed with tissue. “Welcome back,” he said.

“I feel awful,” said Castiel.

“They cut you up,” said Dean. “Nothing too bad. I don’t know what they had planned but it didn’t look good. What do you remember?”

“Not much. I don’t remember the attack.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Dean.

“Not your fault,” said Castiel. “I was stupid. I should have seen it coming.” He shouldn’t have been so desperate for comfort. “I’m sorry you had to intervene.”

“Listen, man, I fucked up.”

Castiel waved him away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I need you to listen to me.”

He blinked.

“I can’t not talk to you. This isn’t working.”

Castiel laughed.

“I’m serious. I fucked things up with us and I’m really sorry.”

He ran a hand over his face. “You just feel guilty.”

“No, I—”

“You feel guilty, Sam’s not here, I’m hurt _again_. What you’re feeling is guilt, not love.”

Dean cupped his cheek.

Castiel closed his eyes. “Don’t do that,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have an excuse.”

“Please, don’t.” Behind his eyes he saw a thousand different moments, things that never happened and never would; thousands of moments that could all begin with Dean’s hand on his cheek. He didn’t pull away.

“I had a feeling that guy was an angel.”

Castiel sighed.

“I was watching you guys. He looked sketchy as fuck. I figured he’d try to leave with you.”

“Thank you for interfering.”

“I was too slow. Thought I’d lost you for a second.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Cas, I need you,” he said quietly.

“I don’t want to be needed. A need can be fulfilled in many ways. Love is specific. I loved you.”

“Loved?”

Castiel’s eyes flashed open. “Yes,” he said, pushing himself up. “Loved. I can’t be yours forever.” It was a thin lie but Castiel held to it.

“Please give me a chance.”

“I gave you a chance.”

Dean took Castiel’s face in his hands again. “Please.”

Castiel blinked back tears. “No.”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

“I saw you with the waitress. You care what everyone thinks. Half of the flirting you do is a show for anyone watching.”

“I’m serious about this. You weren’t wrong. I lied.”

“This will all be in my head by the time Sam gets home. Things will go back to the way they were.”

“No they won’t.”

Castiel furrowed his brow. “Then tell Sam.”

Dean shook his head. “Not yet.”

Castiel inhaled deeply.

“Please.” Dean leaned closer. His breath was warm against Castiel’s skin. “Please,” he whispered. He pressed his lips to Castiel’s forehead. “Please.” He kissed his cheeks. He kissed Castiel slowly.

Castiel lost all resolve. He melted into Dean and was clumsily kissing him back. Then he was in Dean’s arms.

“This is a terrible idea,” said Castiel.

“I don’t care,” said Dean. He laid him back on the bed.

Castiel’s breath hitched. He opened his legs slightly. Dean was already hard. Castiel’s eyes fluttered. Nothing compared to this. No experience had ever left him so breathless. He clung to Dean.

“I’m so sorry, Cas.”

“Just promise me—”

“I promise,” panted Dean. “You won’t regret this. It won’t go back. I swear to God.” He rocked his pelvis against Castiel and Castiel stuttered trying to breathe. They moved together. Dean licked into his mouth and Castiel buried his fingers in his hair.

“Say it,” said Castiel.

Dean stopped and braced himself above Castiel.

“Say it,” he said again.

Dean hung his head.

Castiel pressed his hands to Dean’s chest. “For God’s sake, De—”

“Please, Cas.” He kissed him. “You know how I feel.” He pressed himself against Castiel again. “I’m so sorry.”

Dean was going to hurt him again. He knew it.

“I can prove myself,” whispered Dean.

Castiel shook his head. “Wait,” he said. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

“Yeah you can.”

“It’s going to be different when we get back. I know it is. You love me now in this motel, while we’re alone and I’m vulnerable, but it will change. I know it.”

“I told you, it won’t change. I promise. I’ll be there for you. I’ll be with you.” He kissed Castiel again.

“Dean, stop it.” He pushed him away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t believe you.”

Dean sat up, still straddling his lap.

“Let’s finish the hunt, then head back.”

Dean sighed. “Well, at least we’re on speaking terms again.”


	11. Chapter 11

Sam wasn’t home when they returned. Castiel knew the healthy thing to do was leave. His life revolved around Dean and numerous relationship websites described that as “toxic.” Unfortunately Castiel didn’t have a history of doing what was healthy. Physically and emotionally drained, he went to his room, bidding Dean a quick “good night.”

After an hour without falling asleep he realized his insomnia was back. He sat up in bed and stared at the wall in front of him, his mind occupied entirely with thoughts of Dean.

After another hour Castiel finally began to fall asleep. His sleep was restless and dream-ridden. Horrors replayed themselves in his mind and he was helpless to stop them. He watched everything from the eyes of a villain. He closed Heaven. He slaughtered angels. He betrayed his family. They weren’t just dreams. They were memories.

He awoke sweating and found Dean hovering over him.

“You’re ok,” he said. “You’re home.”

Castiel blinked at him.

“You’re safe,” said Dean.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” said Castiel. He could only assume he’d been shouting or making noise in his sleep.

“I was already awake.” He brushed a damp lock of hair from Castiel’s forehead.

Castiel fought every urge to lean into his touch.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” answered Castiel.

Dean sighed. “Cas, I—” He sighed again. “You deserve so much better,” he said quietly.

Castiel snorted. “I already have more than I deserve.”

“I want to keep you safe,” said Dean. “If I could erase every bad thing that had ever happened to you, I would.”

“That isn’t necessary. If I had a clean slate I’d just muck it up again.”

Dean sat next to him. “Linda used to tell me she was worried about you.”

“She was kind.”

“She said you don’t sleep.”

“I was stealing blood from Crowley.”

“Were you staying awake on purpose?”

Castiel sighed. “No.”

Dean slid down and settled beside him. “Come here.”

Castiel eyed him. He considered the implications, then surrendered. He curled into Dean’s arms and tucked himself under his chin. He tried not to let the moment get to him. He knew Dean was only willing to be gentle because they were alone. It would be different when Sam came back. He didn’t know why he was letting himself be pulled into the façade. The temptation to believe was overwhelming.

Dean kissed his forehead.

“No,” said Castiel. He pulled away. It would be too much to lose once it was gone.

“Cas please let me help.”

“I want to,” said Castiel. “But like I said before, this won’t last and I don’t want to feel like an idiot again.”

“Well I’m not leaving.”

“Then I’ll leave.”

“Come on,” said Dean. “How can I prove you can trust me?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “You know exactly what to do.”

“They’re just words.”

“Words that mean something to me.”

“I’ve apologized, haven’t I?”

Castiel sat up and started to leave but Dean pulled him back. Castiel fell back into bed. He let Dean cradle him back into his arms. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Toxic.

“It’s not safe for hunters to be like me,” said Dean quietly. “We don’t have many connections left. If we get kicked out of that community, that’s it. We’re on our own.”

Castiel didn’t say anything.

“Dad warned me about it years ago. We don’t have a family and other hunters are as close as we’re going to get to one. If we need backup, I need to know we can count on someone.”

“You don’t have to explain,” said Castiel. “I know what it’s like to lose your family.”

“Then you know why I can’t be what you want me to be. We can’t lose more people and I can’t do that to Sammy.”

Castiel clenched his jaw. “I understand,” he said quietly. He’d given up everything for Dean, but Dean never asked him to do it. He couldn’t ask or expect Dean to do the same for him.

Dean kissed his cheek.

Castiel let him.

Dean kissed his lips.

Castiel let him.

Dean’s fingers tangled in his hair and his other hand wrapped around his waist.

Castiel kissed him back. He tried to ignore the fact that this was the first time he had experienced these things. This kiss was different than the way Dean kissed him before. The way Dean was holding him was different than the night they shared a bed. He’d never realized touch could be so nuanced and varied.

Dean kissed him again, slower and his tongue pressed gently at the seam of Castiel’s lips.

Castiel felt himself shaking, felt himself move closer to Dean, felt himself burning for more.

Dean rolled onto his back and pulled Castiel onto his chest. He didn’t push Castiel farther. Dean held him and nuzzled into his hair.

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s chest and let his fingers drift over the muscles. He fell asleep in Dean’s arms and for the first time in a while, slept through the night.

As predicted, Dean was gone in the morning. The noise in the kitchen explained why. Sam was back.

Castiel wandered from his room, doing his best to shove last night from his memory, then he heard his name. He stopped around the corner and listened.

“So you’re talking,” said Sam.

“Yeah,” answered Dean.

“So you and Cas are good?”

“Yeah.”

Sam cleared his throat. “I was gone for a while. Anything interesting happen?”

“Not really. We got jumped by some angels, but we took them out.”

“That explains why your face looks fucked up.”

“Yep.”

“How’s Cas?”

“Fine.”

He heard someone slam something down.

“You’re going to make me ask you point blank, aren’t you?” asked Sam.

“Ask me what?”

“About Cas.”

“What about Cas?”

“You know I heard that fight.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cas is in love with you,” hissed Sam.

Dean shushed him.

“I heard it myself,” said Sam. “And I heard you lie through your teeth.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You love him too!”

“Oh my God, Sammy, not now.”

“You know I don’t care, right?”

“I’m not doing this.”

“Why do you keep putting him off? If I had somebody like that in my life there’d be no question about my feelings.”

“Great,” said Dean. “You can have Cas.”

“I like women,” said Sam. “And Cas loves you. Why are you such an asshole?”

“I like women, too.”

“And men. Specifically Cas.”

“Would you shut up already?”

“No. I gave you a chance to deal with this but you didn’t so now I’m invested.”

“It’s none of your business.”

Castiel backed away from the door. He regretted eavesdropping in the first place. He hurried back to his room to wait out the argument.

Before Castiel had a chance to settle back into bed, Dean came to his room.

“Come here,” he said, holding out a hand.

“Why?”

“Just come here.”

Castiel took his hand and Dean dragged him back to the kitchen. He held their hands up and looked at Sam.

“This what you want?” asked Dean. “Am I still a dick?”

Sam looked between Castiel and his brother. “Yes. You’re still a dick.”

“What else do you want from me?”

Obviously in the few minutes Castiel was gone the fight became more heated.

“It’s not what I want,” said Sam, “it’s what _he_ deserves.”

“I’m doing exactly what you said to do.”

Sam glared at him then turned to Castiel. “Dean’s in love with you. Has been since you walked into that barn. I think you can do better, but what the hell do I know.”

Castiel shook his hand loose from Dean’s. “Sam knows.”

“Yeah, Sam knows,” said Sam. “I’ve known for _years_. I thought you were both in denial but then I heard that fight, and you said you loved Dean, and Dean lied to you and I realized what the problem really was.”

“Fine,” shouted Dean. “I love him.” He turned to Castiel. “I love you,” he spat. “Everybody happy now?”

Sam just stared at him.

Castiel was frustratingly _not_ happy now. He thought Dean saying the words would make it better but for some reason, the confession didn’t help.

“Oh my God,” said Sam. “How are you so bad at this? Look at him and tell him how you feel.”

Dean huffed. He turned to Castiel and placed a hand on either side of his face. He scowled as he looked at him.

Castiel scowled back.

“Sam, can you give us some space?” asked Dean.

“Sure,” answered Sam. “You guys sort this out. I’ll be back later.” With that, he left the bunker.

Dean was still staring at him but he’d stopped scowling. His expression morphed into something that Castiel thought could be fear.

Dean bit his lip. “Cas, I—” He took a shaky breath.

Castiel saw it now. Dean was terrified. He took Dean’s hands from his face and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” said Dean.

“It’s just us,” murmured Castiel. “You’re safe.”

Dean clung to him and buried his face in Castiel’s neck.

Castiel slowly rocked him in his arms. “You’re safe, Dean. We’re safe.”

Dean took a deep breath. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” said Castiel.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one...but I'll get back to updating regularly. 
> 
> I took time off to work on a book like a big girl! It's here if you want to read it: 
> 
> https://www.amazon.com/Patron-Saint-Flame-Alyssa-Rabil-ebook/dp/B07DTC6WKC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1531890665&sr=8-1&keywords=the+patron+saint+of+flame

Castiel shepherded Dean to his room. They crawled into bed and Castiel pulled the covers over them. “You’re safe,” he said again.

Dean sighed against his neck. “I love you,” he said.

Castiel kissed his forehead. “I know. I love you, too.”

Dean found his lips in the darkness and kissed him. This kiss was slow and sweet, and so far, it was Castiel’s favorite. “I’m sorry,” he breathed.

“It’s all right.”

Dean kissed him again. “I was a jerk.”

“You were.”

“Yeah.”

“I hoped you’d come around.”

“Took me long enough.” He pulled Castiel to his chest.

Castiel nuzzled closer, inhaling the scent of his partner. This was new to him as well. Everything was a first with Dean and Castiel. Everything was new and exciting and intoxicating.

Dean began stroking his side, then trailed his fingers to Castiel’s back.

Castiel shivered and grinned. He hummed against Dean’s chest.

Dean caressed his hair.

They traded touches and Castiel savored each one. They didn’t have sex or strip naked, and Dean didn’t press for more. Holding each other against the rage of the world was enough for now.

“We’re going to get your grace back,” said Dean.

“If you say so.”

“I insist.” Dean’s fingers were light against his skin.

Castiel grinned against his chest. “That tickles,” he said.

Dean laughed. “So now you’re ticklish?” He ran his fingers down Castiel’s side again.

“I am,” he answered.

“What else is new?” asked Dean. “There are foods you have to try,” he kissed Castiel’s neck, “experiences, touches, tastes.” Another kiss. “I’m an idiot for waiting so long.”

Suddenly Castiel’s stomach rumbled.

“I can help with that,” said Dean.

“Bodily noises?”

“Yeah. You’re hungry aren’t you?”

Castiel blinked at him.

“Your stomach rumbles when you’re hungry.” Dean laughed again. “C’mon. Let’s feed you.” He took his hand and led him downstairs to the kitchen. “Oh my god, we can get you human drunk!” He handed Castiel a beer, then quickly took it back. “Wait, food first.” Dean poked around in the refrigerator and emerged with leftovers of some kind. He set an array of food on the table.

“I know how to eat,” said Castiel. “I’ve been human for a while.”

“Yeah but I noticed you don’t like cold pizza and that’s just wrong.”

“But the dish is meant to be served warm, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but you’ve only tried Sam’s crappy pizza. This is one I ordered and it’s better. Also, pizza and beer belong together.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I know,” said Dean. “That’s my fault. I let you down.” He took Castiel’s hand. “I let you down, Cas. I’m not going to do that again.”


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel sipped his beer and examined Dean. “The internet says our relationship is toxic.”

“Why does the internet know about our relationship?” asked Dean.

“I searched for advice. Our behavior matches that of partners who are bad for each other. Specifically my behavior.”

“I was messing with your head,” said Dean.

“And I let you. I’m letting you mess with me right now.”

“I’m not messing with you, Cas.”

He took another sip. Maybe Dean was right the other night. Maybe he did need alcohol.

“C’mon, man.”

“I’m not blaming you,” said Castiel. “I just understand the pattern. You should understand it as well.”

“Things are different now. How can I prove it to you?”

“You don’t owe me proof. I’m just alerting you so you won’t be surprised when we fall apart again.”

“I can hold us together.”

Castiel huffed. He didn’t mean to. He had the emotional maturity of a six year old. He tilted his head back and drained his beer.

“I’m serious,” said Dean. “Sam knows. That was the hold up. I said the words. We can do this. I just need you to forgive me.”

“I forgive you,” said Castiel. “Obviously I’ll always forgive you.” Dean played mind-games and was withholding. Castiel was pitiful and needy. Toxic. That was the only word for it. His stomach turned.

Dean slid another beer toward him.

Castiel drank it too fast.

“Is that what we’re going to do?” asked Dean.

“What?”

“Get drunk?”

“I don’t know.”   
“Cas, you know how this goes. Are we ok or are we not?”

He held his hand out for another beer.

Dean obliged. “So we’re going to drink too much, forget the past and make the most of tonight?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“And we’re going to ignore the fact that you said we’re toxic.”

Castiel pursed his lips. “Why the hell not?”

Dean looked down at his drink, then back up, peering through his lashes. “Want to fuck?”

Castiel slammed his beer down, then ripped his shirt over his head. “Hell yes.”

Dean laughed. “Easy featherweight. That was a test.”

Castiel laughed too, though he didn’t find it funny. “Why not? Of course it was a test.”

Dean jabbed a finger at him. “Our first time isn’t going to be some drunken, secretly resentful mess. More importantly _your_ first time isn’t going to be a mess. If I’m in charge, we’re going to do this right.”

Castiel tilted his head to one side. Overcome with some new feeling, he took his pants off and threw them on the floor with his shirt. He was down to a pair of boxers.

Dean gulped. “We came down here because you were hungry,” he said.

“I’m still hungry,” said Castiel.

Dean slid the pizza box toward him.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. He tucked his thumb into the edge of his boxers.

Dean leaned against the counter and took another sip.

Castiel stripped. He was standing naked in front of Dean. He took a slice of pizza from the box and ate it defiantly.

Dean raked his eyes over his body and licked his lips. “I can be better than what you think of me,” he said. “I can give you more than just sex. I want to give you more than just sex.”

“We should just do it and get it over with.”

“No, you know why?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you think I’m going to fuck you then ditch you.”

“I wonder why I would think that?”

“We’re going to do this seriously,” said Dean. “Even if we are a hot mess.”

Castiel took another bite of pizza. Dean was right. It was good cold. He took a deep breath. Maybe he was too dramatic. After all, he was standing naked in the kitchen for no real reason.

“I’ve said a lot of shitty things to you,” said Dean. “I can make up for that.”

“You don’t need to,” said Castiel. “I’m not holding all of your sins against you.”

“I’m not saying you are, I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

Dean huffed. “All I know about romantic relationships is sex. That’s it.”

“I believe that.”

“I need to know more if we’re going to do this right.”

“We’ve been in a relationship since I pulled you from Hell. Nothing needs to change.” He took another slice and bit into it.

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“And if copulating is what’s disturbing you, we don’t have to do it.” He chased the pizza with more beer. “Trust me, fornication is not the most homosexual aspect of our relationship.”

Dean sighed. “Grab your clothes, I’ll grab the pizza.”

“Why?”

“We’re going outside.”

“Why?”

“I’ll show you.”

“It’s cold.”

“It’ll be fine, Cas.”

“Fine.”

He put his clothes back on while Dean gathered a pile of blankets. He shoved the blankets into Castiel’s arms, then he grabbed the pizza and another six-pack.

Castiel followed Dean outside. They were both barefoot and the grass was damp and cold.

Dean set the food and drink aside then grabbed a blanket and spread it out on the grass.

“What are we doing?” asked Castiel.

“You said sex wasn’t the gayest thing we did,” he answered. “It made me wonder what the gayest thing could be and this is what came to mind first.” He spread another blanket out. “Note that I said ‘first’ because it turns out my mind gets pretty gay pretty fast.” He pointed to the blanket. “Sit down.”

“What are we doing?”

“We’re going to star-gaze and I’m going to teach you how to cuddle and you’re not going to tell anyone I ever used the word ‘cuddle.’”

He sat and Dean draped a blanket around him. Dean sat beside him underneath it. Then Dean layered more blankets around them. “Now lean back,” he said. “Against me.”

Castiel laid back with his head pillowed on Dean’s chest and his eyes looking up at the stars.

Dean ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair.

“Now what?”

“Now nothing. We just lay here.”

Castiel reluctantly settled against him. It was nice. He felt Dean’s warmth through their clothes. He felt himself relax.

“You want to sleep in my bed with me tonight?”

“Yes,” answered Castiel.

“I’m really sorry, Cas.”

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

“Let’s start over.”

“All right.”

“Starting tonight we’ve got a clean slate. No more toxic crap.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

“All right,” said Castiel. “No more toxic crap.”


	14. Chapter 14

Castiel woke up in bed the next morning, more specifically in Dean’s bed. At first he couldn’t find Dean, but then he realized he’d curled up on the other side of the bed. If this really was a fresh start then he could take a risk. He reached out and pulled Dean back to him.

Dean was quick to comply. He rolled over and wrapped Castiel in his arms. “Morning, Sunshine,” he mumbled.

“Good morning.”

Dean nuzzled against Castiel’s neck and kissed him.

Castiel hummed. That was new. He liked it.

“I’m going to brush my teeth then come back to bed.”

“I’ll do the same.”

They completed their morning routines then quickly returned to Dean’s bed. It was still warm when they got under the covers.

“You hung over?” asked Dean.

“Not much.”

“Good.”

“Are you hung over?”

“No, but I didn’t drink like you did last night.” Dean was spooned behind him, holding him to his chest. He kissed Castiel’s neck again.

“I like that,” he said. “Is that called something specific?”

“It’s just a kiss,” answered Dean. “You like it though?”

“Yes.”

Dean kissed his neck again and sucked at the skin very gently.

Castiel was almost instantly hard. His head spun and his breath hitched.

“Oh this is going to be fun,” said Dean. He was half hard and pressed against Castiel’s ass.

“I literally have no idea what to do,” said Castiel.

“We don’t have to do anything,” said Dean. “We’re taking it slow.”

“What if I want to move a little faster?”

Dean’s hand began traveling down Castiel’s chest. “Tell me when to stop.” He reached Castiel’s erection and cupped it against his palm.

Castiel didn’t say anything.

Dean exposed Castiel’s cock and began stroking it.

Castiel arched his back.

“Breathe,” said Dean.

Castiel gasped. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He found Dean’s free hand and clung to it.

“Relax,” said Dean. He kissed Castiel’s neck again and pumped his hand a little faster. He pressed himself against Castiel’s ass.

Suddenly all Castiel could think about was Dean’s cock. It was all consuming and it was happening very quickly.

“Talk to me,” said Dean. “Is this ok?”

“Yes,” gulped Castiel.

“Want me to keep going?”

“Yes.”

Dean brought their hands to Castiel’s chest and held him tight. “Should I go faster or slower?”

“Faster,” answered Castiel. His eyes were shut tight. Did this count as fucking? Would Dean leave him after this? Would this behavior continue once Sam came back? Should he stop them?

“You’re tensing up on me, Cas. What are you thinking?”

“A lot of things,” he breathed.

Dean’s hand slowed to a stop.

Castiel took a shaky inhale. “Keep going,” he said. He’d never know the answer unless he let it happen.

Dean rolled him over so they were face to face. “Cas, this is only good if it’s good for you. If it’s bad for you then it’s bad, period.”

“It’s good.”

Dean searched his eyes. “What’s going through your head?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure what we’re doing.”

“It’s a handjob.”

“Believe it or not I knew that much.”

Dean snaked an arm between them. “I’m taking you in my hand and I’m going to start again very slowly.”

“It was better faster.”   
“How about kiss me and tell me when you start freaking out again.”

Castiel could handle that much. Dean began stroking him again. Castiel held onto him as tight as he could and kissed him with equal ferocity. Suddenly he was panting against Dean’s lips. Something in his stomach coiled.

“You’re going to come,” said Dean. “Just breathe.”

Castiel gasped as he was overcome with a sensation he’d never felt before. It was breathtaking, wild and decadent. It was freedom and love and all of the spaces in between.

“Now we’re going to sit here for a second,” said Dean. “We’re going to clean up in a minute, but you need to come down from your high first. How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good,” answered Castiel. “I feel good.” He took a few steadying breaths. “That was incredible. I don’t have words.”

Dean laughed. “Almost makes up for being human, doesn’t it?”

Castiel grinned. “Almost. Was that sex? Did that count?”

“Kind of. Technically that was outercourse as opposed to intercourse. It’s all sex.”

“That was fantastic. Can we have more outercourse?”

“Ok, don’t actually call it that.”

“Fine. Do you want a handjob?”

Dean laughed again. “No, I’m good.”

“What about your erection?”

“I’ll take care of it in the shower.”

“Why? I could do it for you? Is that etiquette?”

“No, I just don’t want to make you feel like you have to or something.”

“What if I want to reciprocate?”

“That—um—that would be ok.”

Castiel took Dean’s cock in one hand and began to move it up and down the shaft.

Dean closed his eyes.

“Should I go faster?”

“No,” answered Dean quietly. “What you’re doing is perfect.”

He’d never seen Dean like this before, quiet, almost meditative. It occurred to Castiel that sex was the only tenderness Dean knew. He kissed Dean and ran his free hand through his hair. This was the only time Dean let his guard down. This was the only time Dean enjoyed something intimate.

He made little noises as Castiel pumped his fist. Noises Castiel very much wanted to hear again. Dean’s hips shifted and Castiel took that to mean he should go faster. He turned out to be right and was rewarded with more noises.

“Cas,” he breathed.

Castiel kissed him.

Dean came with a gasp.

Neither of them spoke for a while. When they did, it was to whisper “I love you.”


End file.
